


That Shadowhunters AU Nobody Asked For

by AberrantAngel



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Shadow World Setting (Shadowhunter Chronicles), F/M, In fact the slowest slow burn because I don’t know what I’m doing, M/M, Multi, Other, Slow Burn, Their last names are now first names because I do what I want
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-07
Updated: 2019-01-24
Packaged: 2019-06-23 06:43:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 25
Words: 40,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15600582
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AberrantAngel/pseuds/AberrantAngel
Summary: One day it hit me... I was going to write a Les Mis fic in the Shadow World. This was mostly to see Les Amis as cool magical characters. There may not be that much of a plot but there is definitely tons of fun.Disclaimer: You do kind of need some knowledge of the Shadow World to know what’s going on.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first public fic! If you hate the formatting please leave a comment with pointers. This starts out slow because I needed to introduce people quickly to get the real story rolling. Thanks for reading!

Enjolras was a Herondale. That named carried weight and he was ready to bear it. He idolized the Lightwoods of the past who stood up for Downworlder rights, but after they died people reverted to their old ways. But Enjolras was determined to become the next Alec Lightwood. He would bring Shadowhunters and Downworlders together once and for all. His golden hair and emerald eyes were just as enchanting as his ancestors. All the Nephilim were gorgeous, but Enjolras was the most.

His parabatai was Combeferre Penhallow, who was very bookish, especially for a Shadowhunter. He studied medicine through mundane books and wanted to become a sort of Shadowhunting doctor. His skin was dark and smooth. He wore his hair styled into a perfect form of professionalism. The oddest thing about Ferre were his glasses. No Nephilim should need to wear glasses at all. But Ferre did, due to an injury sustained while fighting demons with Enjolras (who blamed himself for the accident). 

The lived in the Paris Institute with a few other transfer Shadowhunters: Feuilly, Joly, and Cosette. The red-haired Feuilly Branwell was a hard worker. He got everything done on time all the time. Poland was where he was born (he called it his fatherland), but France was his true home. Joly Carstairs got along quite well with Combeferre. He quickly picked up Ferre’s studies, but struggled with the thought of himself contracting the issues he read about. Sometimes Joly would freeze during battles due to a hint of anxiety, but the others would always psych him back up. He had transferred in from the Beijing Institute after suffering a brain trauma. Cosette was a transfer in from Idris. She had lacy blonde hair and crystally eyes, but she was not a Herondale, she was a Lovelace. Her father, Valjean was the Consul. She was small and sweet, but stronger than most people she met. These young Parisian Shadowhunters were an incredibly team constantly bringing home wins for the Clave. 

The Paris Institute was the best example of how Shadowhunters should be completing their tasks. That’s the reason why Enjolras receives so much pressure from the Clave. It would be so horrible to have their precious little Institute darkened by radical ideas.They’d tell him to stop working for Downworld rights, but he never ever would. 

And one day the Parisian Shadowhunters got a mission; a mission which seemed easy at first glance, but ended up much more difficult than anticipated.

A new High Warlock had been put into place. The previous one had been “accidentally” killed by a group of Shadowhunters called the Patron Minette. It was a mystery how that group always managed to get away with their schemes. Enjolras’s face always grew red as his balled his hands into fists when they were brought up in conversation. But, alas, there was a new High Warlock of Paris, and he had to be formally greeted by the Shadowhunters. 

Enjolras and Combeferre were headed to the warlock’s flat before the others, who were held up at a demon skirmish near Notre Dame. Enjolras had wanted to go along with his friends to fight, but the way Ferre felt (he could tell through their Parabatai bond) made him decide not to. Combeferre was tired and most definitely not in the mood for a fight. Enjolras hoped the new High Warlock wouldn’t cause any stress on Ferre. It would end up making the greeting more of a threatening event.

The outside of the apartment building was ugly to say the least. The wood was rotting and vines swirled up around the front. It did not seem like someplace anyone would choose to live in. Enjolras assumed the warlock must be very old and cranky, so he lived in a crappy building to drive others away. This will be fun, he thought to himself.

The pair of Parabatai walked up the creaking steps and knocked on the heavy wooden door. A short curly haired boy opened the door and-- woah. This was not what Enjolras was expecting. Not actually in the slightest because GLITTER.

“Heyo Shadowhunters!” the short man said, “I’m Courfeyrac, you’re new High Warlock!”

Courfeyrac was shiny. Enjolras had heard of Magnus Bane and his obsession with glam, yet the short man outdid even Magnus. His skin was completely coated in sparkles. He had makeup over his eyes that added even more sparkle. His lime colored skinny jeans, hot pink crop top, hair, and silver crocs were all sparkly. Enjolras scanned the man up and down once again attempted to take the glitter in, and he noticed how young he looked (even for a warlock).

“Come in already! Don’t stand out in the open doing nothing!” Courfeyrac led them inside to a stylish sitting room. He gestured for them to sit on a very fluffy couch. It felt like how one would imagine sitting on a cloud would feel.

“Do you mind me asking, sir, how old you are?” Combeferre said in his gentle and polite manner. He’d been wondering the same thing as Enjolras. Courfeyrac seemed to notice both of them for the first real time since they’d arrived. He did a quick once-over of Enjolras, but when his eyes scanned Combeferre they went much slower. Much, much.

“I’m as old as you think I am,” Courfeyrac smirked and sat himself next to Ferre.

“So, about 400 or something?” Enjolras asked out of curiosity, and Courfeyrac’s eyes grew wide.

“What? No! I’m 20 years old! Do I look 400 to you? I should’ve gotten that facial in Peru, dammit.” Courfeyrac pouted for a second. “I have yet to stop aging.”

“Then you must be very powerful,” Combeferre observed and he gained the warlock’s attention is record time. “You’re not even 100 and you’re a High Warlock.”

“I am very powerful! I worked very hard in New York on my magic. I helped out Shadowhunters there since I was really young. We were a good team. It’s almost a shame I got this position and had to leave them,” he glanced at Ferre, “But Paris does seem to have its perks.”

“I’m hoping that you will end up finding us just as hospitable,” a voiced echoed from the door as the three other Parisian’s walked in. “Sorry, the door wasn’t locked you might want to check your wards. I’m Joly by the way.” Courfeyrac nodded to say hello. Cosette and Feuilly stepped forward. The latter was carrying a limp form in his arms. 

“Cosette, what happened?” Enjolras was on his feet in seconds. He looked at the unconscious boy, “And why is Feuilly carrying a mundane?”

“We were just about to finish off the demon when Marius wandered into the alley. He had stopped in his tracks because he could see us. The demon then attacked him.” She turned to Courfeyrac, “I’m Cosette and that is Feuilly. I know it’s kind of rude to ask on our first meeting, but could you maybe heal this boy, he got ichor in his wounds.”

“I’m Courfeyrac, and probably,” he said, “But it will cost you. We’ll talk prices later. Set the boy on the couch. Shadowhunter would you be a dear a stand up.” The last part was directed to Combeferre, who did as he was told. Feuilly did his best to gently set the boy on the sofa. 

“Oh! I know this mundane! This is Marius Pontmercy!” Courfeyrac smiled brightly and began to collect things for a potion, “As you know, he has the Sight. I met him in New York, he was on a photography trip. He was lost, poor thing, and then I found him. Apparently his hotel had given him the wrong address and he had no idea where he was. I offered him my spare room and we finished out the next few months as roommates. I let him have a picture of my Warlock mark for his album.”

“What is your mark?” Combeferre asked and then blushed.

“I don’t even know your name and you want personal information like that!”

“Oh, I’m Combeferre,” after a beat he added, “And that’s Enjolras.”

“Well then, Combeferre,” Courfeyrac said the name smoothly, “Could you help me treat Marius?”

“Sure, I’ve actually studied some medical work.” Combeferre knelt down to look over Marius's wound, which was on his shoulder. “Could we get the area of the wound cleared of clothing?”

“You sure do like to move quickly.” Courfeyrac winked at him and flicked his hand. Marius’s shirt and jacket now sat folded on the couch next to him. 

Combeferre now had a med kit in his hands. He looked up to Courfeyrac with a hint of amusement before getting to work. He began to clean the wound while the warlock mixed his potion. The others stood there feeling out of place in the situation that was clearly being handled by two capable men. So capable, that the potion was ready in record time. Courfeyrac poured it over Marius’s wounds, which immediately looked much better. Ferre bandaged it and smile up at Courfeyrac, who smiled right back.

“Now let’s see if we can wake him up!” Courfeyrac traced a pattern in the air above Marius, whose eyes shot open. “Ah, Monsieur Marius! It’s so great to see you!”

“Courf?” Marius noticed he wasn’t wearing a shirt, “.....What exactly is going on?”

“You remember what I told you in New York?” Marius nodded, “Well you were attacked by a demon, unfortunately. These Shadowhunters brought you here to be healed.” Marius turned to look at the others; his gaze stopped on Cosette.

But before anything else could happen, a portal opened in the room. The Shadowhunters immediately assumed their battle stances. Marius promptly hid behind the couch, taking a blanket with to cover himself. The portal faded as three figures stepped through. 

“Thanks for leaving the wards down Courf,” a long-haired Shadowhunter in flower print gear smiled. Or maybe not a Shadowhunter… a faerie? The stranger danced about and seemed to start up a conversation with a nearby potted plant, definitely part faerie.

“Yeah we would’ve been screwed without your portal,” A girl with long black hair laughed, Enjolras noticed her pointy fangs, she was a vampire. She seemed to notice the company only after Courfeyrac gestured to them with his head. 

“That completely legal portal you definitely have permission to be using,” the third member said smirking. “Courf, you’ve barely been here a day and we’ve already been replaced?” the man teased.

He was a Shadowhunter, but he wasn’t wearing gear. His outfit was actually quite Mundane. He had on paint-stained jeans and a t-shirt. A stubble ghosted his chin and his dark curls were tucked under a maroon beanie which complemented his eyes… sharp blue eyes.

“You guys haven’t come at the best time. This are the Parisian Shadowhunters I will be working with: Feuilly, Cosette, Joly, Enjolras, and Combeferre. You all, these are my New York friends, who should speak French so I don’t have to use a translation spell. Jehan, they/them pronouns, Grantaire he/him, and Eponine she/her. Oh, and Marius, you guys remember him, is hiding behind my couch.” All of the mentioned parties waved awkwardly except Jehan who planted a kiss on everyone’s cheek to say hello.

“Hey Marius,” Eponine leaned to see the boy behind the couch. 

“Please tell me this is an urgent situation, I’m kind of in the middle of something.” Courfeyrac said to the New Yorkers.

“It actually is,” Eponine explained, “I have to speak with the head of the Paris clan. One of his has been killing of people on turf.”

“I guess that qualifies as important. How about we all take a field trip to the vamp’s catacombs!” Courfeyrac spun in excitement.

“All of us?” Enjolras questioned because it was a bit preposterous for nine people to show up at an esteemed leader’s residence unannounced. 

“No dumbass, everyone besides you.” Eponine rolled her eyes.

“But we can’t get behind on work--” Enjolras was cut off.

“Take a break, Apollo. Get to know some rowdy Americans” Grantaire was doing that smirking thing again. Enjolras wanted to get it off his face… somehow.

“What about me Courf?” Marius popped up from behind the couch.

“Come along! You can be my intern for the day, it will be fun!” Courfeyrac snapped an Marius had a fresh outfit on, he looked immeasurably more comfortable with clothes on.

‘“Okay, warlock, let’s hit up some bone yards,” Eponine smiled as Courfeyrac engulfed the room in orange light.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> And now they're in the catacombs. Guess who else is there?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day, wow. (That's probably not going to happen again.)

The group now stood in a waiting room lined with femurs and skulls. The City of Bones was far creepier than this, so the Shadowhunters weren’t spooked. Marius, on the other hand, looked rather queasy. Cosette noticed this and slipped her hand into his.

A shadowy figure emerged from the darkness. It was a man, a vampire. He wore makeup and he wore it well. The dust on his face make his cheekbones look like literal weapons and his mouth shimmered red like blood. Not only was his contour viciously stylish, but his clothing as well. It was dark and gothic with a faint hint of Romanticism. He stepped right up to Jehan.

“What brings you here, little bird?” the vampire said in a velvety and dangerous voice. 

“My friend wished to speak with your clan leader, Parnasse,” Jehan took his hands and nodded their head towards Eponine. 

“Wait you two know each other?” Feuilly commented.

“Of course, Montparnasse lives in the catacombs and I need an excuse to visit them. I love the artistry,” Jehan explained. 

“Excuse?” Montparnasse raised his eyebrows, but Enjolras had to give him credit for keeping the rest of his face emotionless.

“You know what I mean,” Jehan pressed a kiss to Parnasse’s hands. Enjolras wasn’t sure if it was platonic affection or something else. Jehan had kissed everyone for greetings, maybe this was like that… or maybe not. The vampire definitely seemed privy to the kiss being more than platonic.

Montparnasse directed his attention to Eponine, “You can see him, but I have no reason to trust Shadowhunters.” Jehan gave him a look. “Fine, but he will not be happy to see so many of you in his territory. Leave the talking to the vampire and Jehan. Your kind has been treating mine so well lightly.”

The group was led down the curvy tunnels underneath France. The eerie bone sculptures had their own type of beauty; one Jehan flourished in, but everyone else looked at like modern art. All the way there Enjolras watched Courfeyrac’s friends carefully. He didn’t trust them just yet. His team had worked beside him since he was a child. The New Yorkers had barged into Paris through a probably unsanctioned portal made by an underaged High Warlock. They weren’t making the best impression. He specifically watched Grantaire.

Montparnasse stopped in front of two huge red doors. He glanced over the group one time and smiled. It was evilly foreboding, venomous, but it wasn’t directed at the hoard of Shadowhunters. Maybe Parnasse had something against his clan leader. That wasn’t very common; most Downworlders had a solemn loyalty to whoever was in charge. Enjolras was curious as to why the smile had crossed Montparnasse’s face. Then the stylish man pushed open the doors and they all stepped into a large rotund room.

“Montparnasse! Why do you bring me a mob of enemies to our grounds? And this child of the night you’ve brought does not belong to our clan. God, I should’ve demoted you years ago!” A tall vampire sat upon a thorny chair at the top of a small staircase. Enjolras understood the smile, Parnasse wanted them to bother the leader. They were toys for his spite.

“Monsieur Gordon, we come on accord of one of yours murdering residents of New York.” Jehan stepped forward, he couldn’t been seen behind the tall Combeferre.

“Oh, young nymph, you’ve come to visit as well,” the vampire purred. “Come up here dear Jehan.”

The mentioned party marched right of the stairs and placed themself on the leader’s lap. The tall vampire looked down on Montparnasse mockingly. The latter’s plan was backfiring on him. And despite feeling slightly used, Enjolras felt a little bad for him. This time Parnasse didn’t keep emotion off his face as skillfully as before. The furious blush on his cheeks was direly obvious due to his pale complexion. 

“Gordon, you have to keep your fledgelings under control. I wouldn’t wants things to get complicated because of my Nephilim blood,” Jehan said.

“Little seelie, you’re other blood is the only things your friends care about. You’re just another downworlder to them, do not forget that.”

“Well that’s a lie,” Grantaire actually began laughing, mockingly, at an important vampire king. What the hell was he doing?

Parnasse turned sharply towards Grantaire with a little shock, but mostly annoyance in his eyes, “Damn it, R.” He said though his teeth, but the laughter continued.

The leader hissed, “What is so funny Nephilim? Do you try my anger and patience on purpose?” Jehan began to pet the king’s arm in an attempt to calm him down, but a hint of fear ghosted their eyes. They mouthed the word ‘danger’ at Grantaire.

“Sorry, sorry,” he began to recover from hysteria, “I mean no disrespect, but you’re a hypocrite.” This time Grantaire looked Gordon directly in the eyes. “You say we judge Downworlders, but you judge Shadowhunters. I can’t speak for these Parisians, but they seem cool. Either way, me and my friends love Jehan. Who gives a shit out their blood. We love Eponine too, and she’s a vampire. I love some mundanes, werewolves, and warlocks too. So I’m not the haughty-ass Shadowhunter you seem to think I am. Clearly you’re the one with the bias. And you didn’t seem surprised about one of yours in New York, but how wouldn’t you know. That fledgling was your creation. How would he travel to the US without help, you know, being dead and all. How did that happen, Gordon, without you backing the operation? Violating the accords is enough to have you removed, or maybe just your head removed. But you’ve lied now too, so you’re being picked up for the clave. Your fledgling cracked after one question. He’s with Ep’s clan now, don’t worry. Or actually do because the Clave isn’t known for mercy. I guess you’re out of work now, and sorry man I get it, I’ve been there and--” the rant ended in a choked cough, probably because of the hands squishing into Grantaire’s throat. 

Gordon had sprung to him using his speed and Jehan had fallen onto the floor. Montparnasse turned trying to discreetly maneuver himself towards Jehan. Gordon was quick though, and caught his expensive coat collar.

“Insolent man-whore!” Gordon spat, “You are all forever banished from my court! I should kill you right here!” Fangs peaked out of the king’s mouth, and Grantaire struggled against the muscled arm.

“Let them go,” Feuilly raised a bow and arrow to the king’s eye level.

“Take one more step, any of you, and both of these miscreants die!” Gordon faced them an tightened his hand around Grantaire’s throat. The choking noises got worse and the scruffy man’s blue eyes had grown wide. Enjolras needed to find a way to help. He had to fix this somehow. He looked to his friends, but they all looked to him. He didn’t know, though. Not after Grantaire had thrown all protocol, not to mention politeness, out the window. Maybe Courfeyrac could use his magic, and Eponine has her speed. The Shadowhunter’s could be a distraction, but who would protect Marius. Enjolras had no idea what he should do. He was lost.

Then Gordon’s head slid right off, revealing Jehan behind him. 

Courfeyrac had thankfully covered Marius’s eyes. Cosette moved to speak with the mundane. The warlock marched directly towards Grantaire who was keeled over on the floor wheezing, but smirking. Always smirking.

“One of these days you’ll make me so angry I’m going to have to kill you!” Courfeyrac screamed, “I thought we had gotten over this!”

Something dark flitted over Grantaire’s face before he coughed more. Jehan held Montparnasse’s hand and dragged him over.

“It’s not that.” Grantaire whispered, and then louder, “Besides I’m fine.”

Eponine raised her eyebrows and looked at the finger mark bruises on his neck, “Yeah you look fine.”

“An iratze, R, you need one.” Jehan knelt next to him, “You should heal yourself.”

Grantaire murmured something unintelligible in response. Jehan, Eponine, and Courfeyrac shared a concerned looked. Montparnasse looked slightly, very slightly, concerned.

“Speak up, R,” Eponine kicked him lightly in the side.

“I didn’t bring my stele.”

“Use mine,” Enjolras said before he even had time to process. But it made sense. He had wanted, needed, to help them in battle, but he was useless. At least he could bring something to the table here. Enjolras held out the instrument Grantaire looked up at him for a second before dipping his head towards the ground. Jehan looked at Enjolras apologetically and took the stele. He drew an iratze on Grantaire’s neck very gently.

“Even if you guys hate me this was a success.” Grantaire finally said, “We did as we were told.” His friends all groaned in annoyance. “We did get rid of Gordon, and now Parnasse is in charge. That’s a win.”

“A reckless and immensely stupid win. You were a second away from asphyxiation.” Eponine kicked him again, harder, “I thought you were getting better.”

Another darkness filled Grantaire’s eyes, but he laughed at made some joke about vampires. He stood up and avoided the topic. What was he getting, or rather, not getting better from? At? With? No, Enjolras definitely didn’t care what it was because he and his friend’s could leave now. Portal back to New York and never cause chaos in Paris again.

Jehan whispered to Courfeyrac, and suddenly they were all in his sparkling flat again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter three will be here on Thursday. See you then. :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're back in Courf's flat and it's time for their self-evaluation!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, thanks for sticking around! There are so many characters in this one. Don't worry everyone will be here soon. :)

Montparnasse elegantly sat himself down at a long table. Eponine scowled and plopped next to him. The others followed suit.

“Um, what exactly is going on?” Joly asked.

“This is our post-mission review. We do it every time. The Clave has had… conversations with us about our style. They think that reflecting on our tactics could improve of success. They basically want us to evaluate our crazy and fix it.” Courfeyrac explained. Enjolras was surprised that Grantarie could make so many mistakes that they were ordered to reflect on them. Grantaire noticed Enjolras’s confused face and smirked. 

“It’s not just me Apollo, they’re crazy too,” Grantaine swept his arms out to indicate his friends, who glared at him.

“But at least we don’t get ourselves killed.” Eponine added because, well, that's a plus.

“Can we please get this over with,” Montparnasse drawled, “I am the head of the Paris clan now, I have work to do.” He tapped his shiny black nails on the wood and turned to Enjolras. “Parisians sit down, this involved you as well. These meetings are horrible, but they are short. I have had the misfortune of attending them in the past.”

They took their seats at the table and sat very awkwardly for a moment, staring at each other.

“Okay, so the Clave wants us to ask ourselves these questions: Were we prepared? Were we tactical? Did we succeed?” Courfeyrac slid his chair to the left, towards Ferre.

“Triple yes,” Grantaire respond, “I may have not been prepared but the sexy Parisians were prepared enough to make up for it. My tactical choice worked, and we did what we were told.”

“Let me be the first to mention, you endangered myself with your ‘tactics’ as you called that behavior,” Montparnasse turned a glare on him.

“I guess I’m still getting used to the fact that you have a will to live these days,” Grantaire met the glare, and Courfeyrac interrupted before it got ugly.

“Ooooookay. How about our new allies review us.” Courf amended.

“Well,” Feuilly began, “You don’t seem to have a strategy. It would be good to create a routine instead of improvising, to reduce the chances of someone dying.”

Joly spoke up, “And get some medical training. When Grantaire, R, as it seems he liked to be called, was hurt you all stood there and yelled at him. That could be an issue when someone is bleeding out.”

“Maybe try to be a little kinder and less mocking towards leaders of clans,” Cosette put in her two cents.

“You also have a very diverse set of skills,” Combeferre explained, “If you could find a way to have Courfeyrac’s magic and the rest of your speed and agility working in harmony you wouldn’t run into so many problems.”

This brought everyone’s attention to Enjolras, it was his turn.

“Well, to name a few things,” his eyes flitted with passion, “Grantaire didn’t have gear or any weapons with him. It’s just the basics and must be fixed. Jehan’s charming skills were a nice effort, but ineffective and degrading. When dealing with a big threat kindness isn’t always the best option. Montparnasse’s feelings were clouding his judgement,” this earned a horrifying glare (and Enjolras never got scared from looks), “Courfeyrac should have used his magic to help in some way, he is a very valuable team member. Eponine should have scheduled a more professional meeting with Gordon. And I am reminded of Grantaire. Your speech was disgraceful. It’s soul purpose was to piss-off, and that it did, but not just Gordon, also me. To my knowledge you have received training, seeing someone throw that all out just to be flippant was terrible. I’m surprised you have lived this long.”

“We all are.” Grantaire met Enjolras’s eyes with a look of-- no, Enjolras couldn’t tell what the blue eyes held in them. There was a moment of silence.

“Well thank you, Enjolras, for not sugar-coating it,” Eponine broke the awkwardness with her sarcasm, “I feel it’s best that we go on our way now. C’mon gang let’s get going.”

“Please don’t call us a gang again Ep, you become 55% less cool,” Grantaire quipped as his friends stood. 

“Shut up, idiot, let’s go home‒” Eponine was cut off by a swoosh of a portal opening behind her.

“Unfortunately no one is going home,” an older man with greying hair stepped forward holding a bald Shadowhunter about Enjolras’s age by the collar of his shirt, “the institute has been evacuated. New York is under attack.”

Everyone took a second to process before the New York hunters sprung into action. Grantaire immediately got out a phone, which was not consistent with Shadowhunter culture. His brows furrowed as he spoke into it. Jehan got up and moved next to Montparnasse to whisper something that made the vampire’s face twitch just a bit. Eponine grabbed Courfeyrac and began to yell at Javert. Enjolras once again did not know what to do.

“I know you don’t like us, but leaving our friends to die! That’s a whole new low, Javert!” Eponine yelled, “Courf, get me a portal now I’m getting Gav and Chetta.”

“You can’t go alone if the city is under attack and the sun will be rising really soon,” Courfeyrac began to open a portal anyways.

“I’ll go with her.” Enjolras found himself saying. He was very desperate to take charge in this chaos and now he was going into a battle field with stranger. His mouth had to learn to stay shut.

“Okay, but if you screw anything up and either of them gets hurt I will personally deliver you 1,000 years of pain.” Eponine tugged Enjolras into the swirling portal.

***

Enjolras ended up on the steps of a huge institute, but he didn’t have time to marvel at it. A knife skimmed his ear as he turned to Eponine. She grabbed his arm and tugged him to cover around the corner. Enjolras snapped out of his haze and peeked his head just past the wall. 

“Wait those are Shadowhunters! Why are they attacking us?”

“Wow dumbass, they don’t like how this institute works with downworlders.”

“But why are they attacking us!?!”

“You’ve really never seen violent faction before? What kind of pampered world is Paris? I assume you can fight well because we’re going out there guns blazing.” 

Eponine swiftly turned the corner and began fighting one of the Shadowhunters with her bare hands in broad daylight. Enjolras followed and grabbed a blade from his side. He whispered “Castiel” to awaken the blade within. No one seemed to use that name for their blades but Enjolras had read stories about the righteous angel, and couldn’t resist.

He met an older hunter halfway with the sword and punched with his other hand. Then he spun his legs to kick the back of the man’s knees causing the brute to fall to the ground in one sweep. Enjolras pressed the metal to the attacker’s neck.

“You’re just a filthy downworld whore! Fight for your bloodright!”

Enjolras scrunched up his nose and roundhouse kicked the man’s skull, knocking him out cold. Then he moved on to the next fighter and the next and the next. He would take them out in a manner of seconds. Even for a Shadowhunter, Enjolras was nimble and strong. The traces of heavenly fire left by ancestors in his veins was fueling him until all of the threats had been neutralized.

“Damn, you’re not my type, but that was hot,” Eponine was leaning against a tree with an impressive pile of hunters unconscious around her. “We should really get moving. Gavroche is going to be in school for early band lessons and Musichetta should be on her way there to meet up with us.”

***

“Courfeyrac, you had no grounds to make that portal,” Javert let go of the Shadowhunter.

“It was on the grounds that you left members of our team behind,” Courfeyrac straightened up.

“I am only responsible for Jean, Lesgles, and Grantaire. By bringing Mister L’ Aigle here I have fulfilled my duty fully.”

“Dude, I already told you I prefer Bossuet to all my other names. And hello everyone! I was in a bit of a debacle when the others left for the mission, but it’s nice to meet you now.”

“You have a cut on your arm!” Joly stepped forward to look at it, “I’m medically trained, well training, let me have a look?”

“Sure, but how about introductions first,” Bossuet smiled despite everything. 

“Of course! I’m Joly, they’re Courfeyrac, Combeferre, Feuilly, Cosette, and Marius,” Joly beamed right back at him, “Oh and Enjolras went with Eponine.”

“It’s been an honor everyone, as I said I go by many names, just mainly Bossuet. The cranky man is Javert, our Institute’s leader.”

Joly had taken the bald man’s arm and looked at the wound. He was in the middle of drawing Bossuet an iratze. “It’s not infected so no medical procedure is needed, but the cut is deep so it may take a little longer than usual to heal. How did you get this?”

Bossuet looked bashful before saying, “I tripped on the stairs and fell…”

“My dearest, Bossuet, never change.” Courfeyrac laughed. 

“I’m sorry to interrupt Courf, but I was actually on my way to the airport. I was going to head to New York. While I was there I was going to visit you, but I see that you live here now. Anyways, since this is all a little insane, does anyone know of a hotel I can stay in?” Marius smiled sheepishly at the group.

“You can use the spare room in the house my Papa owns near here!” Cosette offered and presented a business card with the address, “He likes to invest in mundane culture.”

Grantaire clicked off his phone and sat on top of the table, “I called Musichetta she is okay for now. Her clan wants her to get out of town so I guess we will be sleeping over until no one wants to murder us.”

“So long as we do cheesy mundane sleepover things I’m excited!” Courfeyrac spun to accentuate his happiness, “If Chetta is coming over we should meet the Paris werewolf alpha. Can one of you give the leader a call?”

“We don’t really know the alpha,” Feuilly explained, “The pack here was super violent for a while, but recently they have calmed down. We assumed there was a new leader, but we didn’t want to poke the bear.”

“Did you ever consider that the reason they’ve calmed down is because the leader wants to form an alliance with you?” Grantaire asked judgmentally.

“We haven’t had the freedom you do in how we operate. The Clave watches us too closely and would not approve of us if we were to work with Downworlders,” Feuilly frowned, “It’s not our choice. The Clave would separate us. They’ve threatened it before.”

“God, if I, a vampire, know the alpha it is extremely pitiful that you do not.” Montparnasse took Grantaire’s phone from his hands and dialed. “Hello Bahorel. The idiots I told you about want to meet you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And this marks the end of my pre-written chapters. I'm going to hope for one chapter a week until we have maybe 10-15. So, chapter 4 will come sometime next week. Have a great weekend.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Was this chapter basically self indulgent? Maybe. There will be a plot I promise! (Probably...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for sticking with the story. :)

Enjolras had never seen New York before. He knew that mundane’s had some sort of primal instinct to go there in every movie. He always heard of it’s greatness and grace. So as he sprinted through the streets he was very surprised by how dirty it was. Everything was cramped and full of grime. Trash had to be avoided with every step he took and the sewers seemed to be literally steaming. Enjolras desperately missed the Parisian sewers, which weren’t all too interesting or clean themselves, but compared to New York sewers he could fall in love with them.

“Herondale, the school is nearby. You stand watch and look for Musichetta. I’m going to grab Gavroche and then call Courf for a portal,” Eponine said as she turned a corner and ran into a small brick building.

Enjolras waited trying to look inconspicuous to passersby. He hadn’t put on a glamour and was receiving a good amount of weird looks. Multiple sleazy people had attempted to talk to him and Enjolras had flashed a dagger at them to get them to leave. Overall he was very uncomfortable. The mundane world was very unpredictable and Enjolras loved order.

A man began walking towards him and he prepared his blade, “Hello pretty boy. Have you seen a vampire or warlock around here?” The man was a Shadowhunter.

“Sorry no, I’m just taking a break from my mission.”

“Really because we happen to know that this vampire has a connection with the school we’re at,” the man moved his hand towards his blade, “I would hate to find out you’re lying.” 

Enjolras moved to grab his weapon, but the man slammed him harder against the bricks and pressed a blade into Enjolras’s skin, “Tell me the truth.” 

“Tholomyes, I wouldn’t want this to end in me beating your ass again,” a voice came from behind the man and his face fell, “Let him go.” The voice was accompanied by a growl. The man reluctantly put his blade down.

“This isn’t the end of this!” Tholomyes yelled as he ran away revealing a tall girl with black curls and impeccably good style. 

“Yeah and blah blah blah,” she yelled back, “You must be the hot French guy that R told me about.”

“Sorry what?”

The girl just smiled mysteriously and shook his hand, “I’m Musichetta, is Eponine inside?” Enjolras nodded, “Cool cool. So how is your day going?”

“It’s been very different from what I expected this morning.” Enjolras offered and Musichetta just chuckled.

“Well that confirms that you’ve met my friends,” she smiled affectionately just thinking about them, “They sure are something.” Even Enjolras could scoff-laugh at that.

Eponine appeared in front of them with a young boy next to her. The boy was a mundane in high school. Enjolras didn’t understand how he fit into this puzzle. Maybe he was being prepared for ascension or he had the sight and would work for Shadowhunters.

“Hiya Gav,” Musichetta lightly punched his shoulder, “This is Enjolras from Paris.”

“Enjolras Herondale? I heard of you a lot when I snuck into the institute to spy on Javert. Your family is very important or something. I’m Gavroche, not from a fancy family like you. Nice to meet you, though.”

Enjolras did not know how to work with children. At all. So he just nodded at Gavroche awkwardly. Eponine rolled her eyes at him while she spoke on the phone with Courf. Musichetta continued her conversation with the teen and Enjolras watched to try and pick up on how to properly speak to Gavroche.

“Courf will open the portal in the alley behind the school, let’s go.” Eponine grabbed Gavroche’s hand and walked around the building. Enjolras began to follow, but he was held back by Musichetta.

“I don’t know what it’s like in Paris, but if you hurt treat any of my friends as less that the wonderful people that they are, I will fillet you.”

“I am a strong advocate of equal rights for all beings,” Enjolras affirmed her and added, “Why are you all so blunt and into threatening me?”

Musichetta shrugged, “Life comes at you fast in New York.”

***

Montparnasse announced, “Bahorel will be here very soon. Eponine and Enjolras should return with the others as well. I’ll be on my way now. Courfeyrac, I will need a portal to the catacombs.” 

“You aren’t staying for the sleepover?” Jehan asked as Courfeyrac silently mocked Parnasse’s command. The portal opened next to Montparnasse.

“It is already the afternoon, bird, I need rest,” Montparnasse ran a hand down Jehan’s face before stepping into the catacombs.

“Do you have room for a sleepover?” Combeferre asked looking around the flat.

“Well I have the couch and a closet full of air beds because I knew my friends would be visiting. Of course some people will have to share beds,” Courfeyrac looked directly into Combeferre’s eyes and smiled deviously.

“You do have your own bed in your own room Mr. Courfeyrac. And I think we should stay at the Paris institute for obvious safety precautions.” Javert was already halfway to the door.

“Eponine can’t go to the institute. I think we’re fine here,” Grantaire argued, “Besides Courf has wards up.”

“Fine stay where you wish, but I will be heading to the institute.” Javert stormed outside.

“Crankypants.” Courfeyrac said, “You guys are invited too. I know you could just sleep in your own beds, but this will be super fun.”

“I for one am definitely staying,” Cosette smiled and the others agreed. The Parisians had never had a sleepover before. It was just a foreign mundane concept that had seemed fun from a distance. Suffice to say they were eager to discover the splendor of a stereotypical sleepover.

A loud knock sounded through the house. It must be Bahorel. The group crowded around the door to see the alpha werewolf. Courfeyrac opened the door to reveal a giant muscular man. He was easily taller than everyone and could probably bench press the Eiffel Tower. 

“Parnasse told me we’re having a sleepover! I brought my entire collection of 90’s movies and other necessities!” Bahorel pushed his way inside and deposited the items in his arms onto the sofa. 

“Dude, you brought Mean Girls 2?” Feuilly had begun to sort through the movies.

“Of course, do you have an issue with it?” Bahorel raised an eyebrow.

“The first one was much better.” Feuilly shrugged and continued his sorting.

“He also brought popcorn and nail polish!” Joly exclaimed.

“And wine,” Grantaire added as he immediately began to open a bottle, “Bahorel, I just met you, but I think I love you.”

“I also brought an extensive knowledge of sleepover games,” he clicks his tongue and pointed finger guns at an unamused Feuilly. “Let’s get this party started!”

***

In returning to the flat Enjolras did not expect to see what he was seeing. Never in Enjolras’s life did he think he would end up seeing what he was seeing. Courfeyrac was singing a karaoke duet with Grantaire, who held a bottle in the opposite hand of his microphone. Combeferre was painting Cosette’s nails while discussing philosophy with her and Marius. In fact there was a lot of nail painting surrounding Enjolras. Joly and Bossuet were painting each other toenails and Feuilly was putting finishing details on a design for a man Enjolras had never met. Jehan was braiding the man’s hair. 

“No one told me we were having a sleepover,” Musichetta looked around, “Nice to meet all of you I’m Musichetta. Now where’s the gold nail polish!” Bossuet waved her over and introduced Joly.

“Ponine, I need you to sing with me for harmonies.” Grantaire shouted across the room. 

“On my way, R,” Eponine turned to Gavroche, “If you touch any alcohol I will drop you back in New York.”

“You would never,” Gavroche plopped into a chair as she left, then directed his attention to Enjolras, “Why are you just standing there?”

“I don’t know what to do.” Enjolras admitted. He was not anywhere near his territory anymore. People were singing and talking about things other than demons and the betterment of the world. Enjolras was just a flimsy noodle standing in the corner.

“Let me paint your nails. I’ve never done it before, so they’ll be ugly, but everyone seems to be enjoying it.” Gavroche smiled and got up to grab some polish from the sofa. Enjolras felt foreign in his own Patria. He had never felt out of place on the streets of Paris when fighting demons or almost dying, but oh no the sleepover was too uncomfortable for him. Gavroche returned and smiled holding up a tiny bottle, “Red seems very you.”

“Okay,” Enjolras said and sat next to the boy. He placed his hands flat against the table. “What are we supposed to do now?”

“I’m not sure. I guess Courf will start some insane game or something. Maybe we’ll watch one of the movies on the couch.”

“Sorry to eavesdrop on you two, but we’re gonna watch 10 Things I Hate About You in like five minutes! I’m Bahorel, alpha wolf, by the way.”

“Hello, I’m Enjolras.”

“And I’m Gavroche. Have you ever killed someone Bahorel?” Enjolras’s eyes grew wide at the boy’s question. It seemed like a very rude thing to ask.

“Ha, of course not!” Bahorel laughed.

“He may look like a badass lumberjack, but from what I’ve learned today he’s a teddy bear,” Feuilly grinned at them.

Bahorel play-shoved Feuilly’s side “I refuse to take offense to that, I will confirm that I am a badass teddy bear. And this teddy bear thinks it’s time for a movie!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I’m trying for Thursday updates although they may be at 2am. I’m starting classes soon so chapters may be just a smidge shorter than usual until I’m back in the swing of things. Or maybe not. For now I’m on the road so chapter five might be a Friday update, we'll see.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I don't even know. Why does this chapter exist? The boys had to fight at some point. The rest was because I do what I want. There's also a lot of dialogue, but everything I write has too much dialogue anyways. This summary is pointless, sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look okay, I know I should write about actual Shadow World things, but sleepovers are so much fun!

The air beds had been set up to cover the entirety of Courfeyrac living room. Everyone was sleeping in a big tangled mess. 

“Pssssst,” a whisper caused Enjolras to snap out of his almost-sleep immediately. Was someone trying to warn him of a threat? Were they being robbed? He grabbed for his stele to draw a night vision rune.

“Is someone else awake?” Another voice asked.

“Yeah! Who else is still up?”

Apparently everyone was still awake. Enjolras scowled and looked at his watch. It was 3:32 in the morning. Why on earth were people trying to hold conversations?

“Do you guys think plants have feelings?” The first voice asked. 

“Obviously, Courf!” Jehan exclaimed causing Enjolras to jump; they were a lot closer than expected. 

“So what happens to them when they become paper? Are we hurting plants?” Cosette joined the insanity. The New Yorkers were already turning his team to their crazy dark side. This was unacceptable. 

“This presents an interesting moral dilemma,” and that was the last straw because the rational and wise Combeferre had joined this discussion. Enjolras didn’t want to come off as rude and shut everyone up, but he couldn’t take this either. It was way, way too early to deal with this childishness. 

“By the angel, shut up,” a raspier voice silenced the group. “What does it matter? Either way humans, downworlders, and Shadowhunters are destroying the world.”

“Grantaire don’t do this—“ Bossuet was cut off by more ranting. 

“We say we protect the world, right? Then why is it so screwed up? People die everyday no matter what. And we’re so focused on our own issues to do our damn job. Everyone is derived from the same selfish seeds aren’t they?”

“R, you’re drunk,” Eponine tried to cut in.

“No! Well yes, I’m drunk, but not anymore than usual. The Shadow World can’t keep it’s shit together. Our one tiny Institute in New York won’t change anything. Even Mr. ‘I’m so deeply marinated in my royal bloodline to see that nothing is changing’ Herondale does whatever his precious Clave says. The one who drapes his body in the flag of world peace is the lapdog of pricelage.”

Enjolras stood up the mess of limbs and made his way towards the voice, “Excuse me? You don’t know me!”

“You can’t honestly believe that we haven’t all gotten the ‘you should be more like Enjolras Herondale, oh he wouldn’t have been such an idiot, you’re nothing like him’ speech? All of us have been compared to you? But what makes you more worthy? What makes you do special? Why are you the chosen one?”

Enjolras was never able to control his emotions. He snapped, “Maybe because I’m not useless like you! All you do is stir up conflict and drink from what I’ve seen!”

All eyes were on him as Courfeyrac clicked on the lights with a snap. Grantaire has a bottle in his hand when Enjolras looked down at him. They had ended up only a few centimeters apart. 

Enjolras growled, “Why don’t you put the bottle down Grantaire?” The words were steaming with disdain and disapproval against Enjolras’s wishes. He had not meant for this to abolen. The other man simply looked him directly in the eye, downed his remaining wine, wiped his mouth in his sleeve, and stormed out the door. 

Courfeyrac spoke quietly, “Who is going to go get him this time?”

“I’ll get him,” Jehan frowned at the door, “but someone has to talk to Enjolras as well.” They pointed at Enjolras, “Don’t you ever say that to him again.”

Enjolras wanted to apologize to everyone, but he just stood in the center of the room like an idiot. He is face felt hot with embarrassment and regret. He looked to Combeferre who pushed his glasses to the bridge of his nose before calming making his way to Enjolras. 

“I know you must be aware of how wrong that was.”

“Of course.” Enjolras looked at the floor, “I didn’t mean it.”

Combeferre places a hand on his shoulder, “You’re a good person. I know that better than anyone. I also know that Grantaire poked at your sore spot just now, which was unfair, but you haven’t acted like this since we were children. I thought we had moved past this, Enj.”

All eyes were on him. He was generally a big fan of having others attention, but this was different, full of scrutiny. There was no praise from Consul Valjean or smiles from his friends. In fact, his friends all looked ashamed. And why shouldn’t they? Everyone was having a great time until his pretentious nature had to go and ruin it all. Grantaire wasn’t wrong. 

“I’m sorry.” Enjolras glanced around the room, “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t care,” Musichetta looked up at him from where she was nuzzled between Joly and Bossuet. “Fix this before I have to carry out my threat from earlier.”

“I will. I’m—“ Enjolras was cut off. 

“You’re sorry, we get it. That was R’s fault too anyways. Just apologize to him when he is sober. Now if I remember correctly, we’re having a sleepover.” Eponine sat up causing the whole floor of air beds to shake, “Let’s play a game.” 

“Yay yay, what game? Courfeyrac asked stretching himself out across the beds. “Truth or dare? Spin the bottle?” He winked at Combeferre who was sitting against the wall next to him.

“I have an idea!” Joly piped up, “The most intense game you will ever participate in, the pinnacle of good times,” he paused for dramatic effect, “Duck, Duck, Goose!”

“Yes, bro!” Bahorel yelled loud enough for Feuilly to cringe back as it was directly into his ear. 

“Someone is going to get hurt running on air beds,” Marius raised his hand awkwardly before he spoke. 

“I’m sure everyone will be okay Monsieur Marius,” Cosette gently leaned into him. 

Bossuet laughed, “Actually I think it’s quite possible one of us will die playing this game.”

Anything dumb is possible with our merry band of misfits. Now circle up,” Eponine said. “Besides I’m sure our Parisians will take good care of us if, when, we get hurt.”

“If you injure yourselves playing Duck, Duck, Goose I’m not sure you deserve our help,” Feuilly quipped. 

The three rounds of Duck, Duck, Goose that followed were… interesting. Courfeyrac ended up “accidentally” falling across Combeferre’s lap. Bossuet had tripped and hit his shin on the sofa. Bahorel has straight up tackled Feuilly to the ground during his turn. Gavroche has fallen asleep on Eponine and Marius looked utterly mortified. But things can get so much worse than an overly competitive children’s game. 

The door to Courf’s flat swing open quickly as Grantaire and Jehan ran inside and slammed it immediately after. 

“Strengthen your wards, Courf! Everyone else get your gear on!” Jehan grabbed an angel blade and activated it. The others shuffled towards their gear. Courfeyrac waved his arms around making orange patterned in the air. 

“See if you can get Parnasse here, his encanto could be useful,” Grantaire shouted to Courf. 

“What I have encanto too? Who’s attacking us?” Eponine stood next to Jehan. 

“Parnasse’s encanto is centuries old it might stall the hoard of demons attacking us right now.” Jehan said as a pounding started against the door. 

“Bahorel, can your wolf pack help?” Musichetta said joining the group by the door. 

“No, they’re still not too happy with my choice to ally with Shadowhunters. We’re on our own here.” Bahorel responded. 

“There are 15 of us,” Montparnasse elegantly sashayed through a portal with a cane and rolled his eyes, “That’s hardly being on your own.”

Enjolras ignored all the banter, this was finally his element, “Defense position three, Feuilly keep an eye on the windows.” He ordered and his friends quickly obeyed. 

“Oh, shit, we’re doing that are we. Uh, do that one with the groups thing, or whatever,” Grantaire said to his friends, who seemed to know what he was talking about. He couldn’t possibly be the New York leader, could he?

Courfeyrac let out an agonizing scream and Combeferre broke form to kneel next to him, The wards are coming down! This can’t be a normal demon. I can’t hold it anymore!” He collapsed into Ferre’s arms as the door to the flat splintered open.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't like the fact that I kind of stopped talking about the Shadow World just wait until next week. You might just get to read more action that I had no idea how to write!


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So there is fighting in the chapter. It's not any more gruesome than the books (by far), so it should be fine to read for everyone. That's all I've got to say I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello and welcome to Chapter 6! I don't know how to write action/fighting very well, but I tried and it was good practice for future projects. I hope you enjoy!

It was a greater demon. Yellowing teeth and slime covered skin ravaged into the flat immediately followed by two more of the same kind. The creatures had to crunch their spines to fit beneath the ceiling. Besides the jaws no facial features were identifiable on the hostile heads of the demons. 

“Ferre, get Marius and Courfeyrac to safety if you can,” Cosette yelled seeing that Combeferre had broken formation. 

An excruciating screech echoed through the walls as the demons swung at the Downworlders who had set themselves up as the first line of defence. Musichetta and Bahorel shifted into their wolf forms as Eponine held a dagger and Montparnasse produced a thin sword from his cane. They were going to take down the first demon.

Grantaire, Bossuet, and Jehan were facing the second demon, who moved slower but was more manic. They seemed to work in perfect harmony almost as if they were parabatai, but none of them had the rune for it. When Bossuet swung his blade, Grantaire was always ready to fend off the counterattack, and Jehan got them back on the offence. It was admirable, and more organized than Enjolras would have expected from them.

But he didn’t have much time to think before the last demon approached the Parisians. Enjolras raised his arm and waited until he knew the monster was close enough, then he swung his hand down. That was the cue to attack, and they did. Cosette slashed the beast across the side and ichor started to seep into the air beds beneath them. Joly avoided the black ooze as he strategically blocked spindly limbs from disabling the others.

Across the room Feuilly was peeking out the windows and scanning the groups to see who he might need to help out with his bow and arrow. He also covered Combeferre who had picked up Courfeyrac bridal style and was leading Marius to another room.

Montparnasse looked the first demon directly in the eyes and made a quick swirling motion with his hand, “You are going to stay still,” he whispered, but it didn’t seem to keep the demon from moving.

“Why isn’t your encanto working?” Gavroche appeared next the him, seemingly out of nowhere.

“Good question, gamin, why are you still here?” The vampire gritted his teeth as he ducked the demons arm.

“No one told me to leave,” Gavroche smiled wide, “Can I borrow your sword?”

“No, go find where Courf was put and sit there,” Eponine said between attempts at stabbing her assailant. “Now!”

The teen grumbled as he walked through the battle as if it weren’t happening at all. Enjolras was impressed and even more confused as to who this boy was. Gavroche clearly wanted to fight, but he wasn’t a Shadowhunter. He knew Eponine in some effect and seemed to be under her care. It was possible he was some sort of distant descendant from not undead part of Eponine’s family. He really should be asked to ascend and join their ranks.

“Your brother is insufferable,” Montparnasse stabbed the demon through its head with his blade, “And he is going to get himself killed.”

“Shut up.” Eponine demanded as she cut the demons throat. The Downworlders had taken down the first enemy. 

Plus Enjolras now knew that Gavroche was Eponine’s brother and that she was a very young vampire, especially considering that she was head of the New York clan, much like Courfeyrac. And Musichetta was their age as well. The New York institute was suspiciously young. If Javert hadn’t shown up he may not believe that they were actually from the institute. They surely seemed like reckless people looking to pick a fight.

“Enj, what has gotten into you?” Cosette asked as she elbowed the demon where its nose should be. “Pay attention!”

Enjolras jabbed his blade at the slimy beast in front of him, “Right, sorry.” Joly shifted to block Enjolras from harm as he sliced off the demons head. Two down one to go, and of course the one was bigger than the others. It seemed that it’s throat had already been cut as slime was oozing down it’s chest, alas it was not slowing down. 

But there must’ve been some delusional purpose to the insanity because eventually after Grantaire had the demon started to stager and stopped attacking. 

“R, may I ask, what are you doing?” Jehan said sweetly but they were also quite confused. 

“Not a demon,” Grantaire grunted as he pulled his ooze covered arms free of the monster. “That was not a demon.” He opened his hands to reveal torn electrical wires. 

Eponine groaned from where she had slumped against the wall “Are you telling me I just got taken down by a freakin robot?” Joly rushed over to her to check her wounds. 

“I’m sorry did someone say robot?” Combeferre had returned to the room with the others, he probably heard the fighting stop and decided to check if the coast was clear.

Courfeyrac looked around his mess of a living room and frowned, “What exactly did I miss?”

“What you missed Monsueir de Courfeyrac was an atrocity.” Everyone turned their attention to the shattered door to see Javert had returned. “I left you alone for one day and you have already upset the Clave. It seems a very old threat is being used again.” Javert looked at the now sparking wires of the animatronic demon. “The local institute trackers alerted me of this altercation and I sent word to the Clave. I received orders that are for all of your own protection.” He handed a slip of paper to Enjolras, “It was addressed to you.”

Enjolras took the piece of paper which he read aloud to the group, “By order of the grand Clave, members of the New York Institute will no longer work with Downworlders of any kind without a direct order from ourselves,” he paused because that was utterly ridiculous. The rest was read with anger lacing his words, “Any disobedience towards this rule will result in immediate relocation to Idris. The Warlock, Courfeyrac, is suspended from High Warlock or Paris for a week due to his infractions on portal making.”

“I guess Eponine and Gavroche, Monsueir Montparnasse, and Miss Musichetta will have to stay here or be on their way. As for you, Monsieur Courfeyrac, your transfer did not allow you to have friends over. From here on out you should respect the rules set upon you. The rest of you will join me outside.”

“I am part Downworlder,” Jehan frowned. “I should be on my way as well.” They grabbed Montparnasse and shoved passed Javert to drag him into the night. 

Javert paused for a second and sighed, “I will allow you to say goodbye for a few minutes. I trust the two of you will collect Prouvaire.” He gestured at Bossuet and Grantaire. “All of you Shadowhunters must meet me at the Institute, if you take more than a half hour there will be consequences.” Then he stepped out into the night, yet again. Enjolras crumpled the paper and threw it to the ground. 

“I don’t want to be a Shadowhunter anymore.” Grantaire slammed his fist against the wall.

Feuilly crossed his arms and sighed, “It is not the easiest thing to be.”

Grantaire turned to the group and it almost looked like tears were brimming in his eyes, “I have listened to their orders for years and I have always succeeded! Screw the Clave, screw it all.” 

“How could you say that?” Marius asked, “You guys save people every day! You have amazing power and strength. Not to mention your ability to use runes to see at night or feel no fear! All the resources of the Clave are laid before your feet for whenever you need them. You are Nephilim, you have exciting lives full of action and honor. What greater thing is there?”

Combeferre picked up the paper from the floor and frowned, “To be free.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hola from the end notes! This chapter barely met my minimum word goal, but hey, it was posted on time and that's the real goal here. Things are getting hectic, but I'm going to try my very best to keep posting on Thursdays. Next update on September 6th!


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I ramble about stuff in this one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This ended up being longer than expected. I like this chapter, but there's more of just describing stuff so sorry if that bores you. Anyways I hope you do enjoy :)

“By the Angel, Ep, please tell me you’re okay,” Grantaire made his way towards the vampire as Joly stood up.

“Ask the ShadowDoctor,” she groaned and rolled onto her side which only seemed to cause more pain.

“I think she has some broken ribs, but considering her healing abilities it shouldn’t be a problem,” Joly frowned besides that good news. The room was silent for a beat. 

Enjolras was very angry. Not to say that he isn’t generally angry, it was just especially bad at the moment. It was fundamentally wrong to place a ban on working alongside allies, even if those allies happen to be of a different race. The immediate thought he has was to tell Grantaire and his friends to break the rules, but that might just make the situation worse. He decided he would figure something out for them. No one deserved to be treated as less than what they were.

“We don’t have a choice right now, but we’re gonna figure something out,” Musichetta offered reassurance in the silence but her expression was grim. “I guess this is goodbye. For now.”

Grantaire turned towards her angrily, “No.” he stated flatly and his friends try to protest another rant, “We can’t just abide by this. We’re a team and as cheesy as it might be, we can’t work without each other.”

“Come on, R.” Courfeyrac seemed less sparkly than before, “I’ve already been demoted and will be punished if I were to do anything else. I can’t even portal you guys back home if I ever want to be reinstated as High Warlock of Paris. Us Downworlders and Marius will stay here.”

Cosette spoke up, “For what it’s worth, I’ve had a great time with all of you. I think you were a great team and it’s horrible that anyone wants to take that away.”

“So we fight it.” Enjolras smiled, “I do not stand for inequality between any race and I will speak to the Clave as soon as I can get a meeting. Surely Cosette can speak with Valjean and we can sort this out.” Somebody scoffed, “Do you have something to say, Grantaire.”

Blue eyes stared back at him, “You think being the Clave’s Golden Boy is going to change anything, Apollo?”

“Yes.”

***

If someone were to say that Paris wasn’t a beautiful city they would be uncultured liars who clearly had no idea what they were talking about. Even when walking through the stone streets with your friends and two strangers it was easy to get possessed by the Mundane-built masterpiece. No one seemed to be so enamoured the the city as Enjolras himself. He was in love with France, particularly Paris, and specifically the Paris Institute.

The old Cathedral which had been taken control of by Shadowhunters looked old and worthless to the outside world. Alas, that was just the work of a glamour and those who had the Sight could see how incredible the institute truly was. Arches cascaded in swirls around huge stained glass windows that the Clave had designed to depict different aspects of Shadow World history. The floor was cold marble that made satisfying clicking noises when walked on with shoes. Cosette and Joly liked to slide across the smooth floors in their socks as they claimed to be practicing their balance. 

Enjolras especially loved the dark wood doors with the angel Raziel carved into them with extremes detail. The Mortal Instruments decorated the space the angel himself did not take up. The best parts were the two golden handles crafted by the Iron Sisters and enchanted by a team of Warlocks to protect the doors from being open. Enjolras reached out for the handle to show everyone inside.

“Wait, don’t we have to get Jehan?” Feuilly asked and Enjolras turned; he had forgotten the others were even there.

“Nah,” Grantaire flapped his hands in the air (he seemed to do that a lot when he spoke), “Jehan will make their way back here on their own. Bossuet and I have know Jehan for years and sometimes they just need space.”

“If you say so,” Feuilly gestured for Enjolras to continue opening the doors. 

It pleased Enjolras that a small intake of breath from Grantaire was audible as he payed eyes on the interior of Enjolras’s institute. It was the best sight to behold and any less of a reaction would’ve been insulting. 

“This is beautiful,” Bossuet scanned the foyer from top to bottom, “You guys are living like royalty over here!”

“Just wait until you see the rooms you’ll be staying in,” Combeferre smiled, “If you and Grantaire will follow me I’d love to give you a tour.”

“Hell yes!” Grantaire exclaimed from where he was ghost touching a carving into the stone walls. 

“Don’t forget to show them where we will be eating in the morning and the bathrooms!” Cosette called after them as the trio moved out of the foyer. “Well it’s late. I’m going turn in for the night.” she smiled and waved goodbye. 

“I think I’m going to sleep too. It’s been a… hectic day.” Joly turned to leave but glanced back for a moment, “And, Enj, any plan you make, I hope it works for the New Yorkers. They are really good people.”

Enjolras was well aware they were good people. It would take an idiot not to see that. Anyone willing to risk their lives to save others had to have some kind of goodness within them. But he couldn’t say he agreed with how carelessly they fought. Or maybe that was just Grantaire’s fault. He was the one who had acted ridiculously in battle twice in less than a day. To be fair he succeeded, but Enjolras could have succeeded while still being tactical. 

“Hey,” Feuilly leaned against the cold wall and Enjolras did the same, “How are you planning on helping them out?”

Enjolras sighed, “I’m not sure. I mean I don’t want to get them in deeper trouble. I guess meeting with the Clave would be the best option.”

“I will write them tonight before I sleep. You should really try and rest tonight and not work too hard trying to figure out what to do with this problem. Your brain will do better with rest.”

“I know. You always know what’s best, Feuilly. Have a good night.” 

Of course, Enjolras did not want to sleep. He wanted to jump onto the anger train inside him and burn out every one of his muscles until injustice was just a squealing mess beneath his foot. But he amended to at least try and sleep. 

The bedrooms were all gorgeous. High ceilings were lined with old patterned wallpaper and chandeliers hung in the middle of each room. The beds were comfortable and had soft sheets that you could never grow tired of. The furniture was swirly wood with a shiny finish that reflected light from the arched window with long red curtains. Bedroom floors were made of wood and had fluffy rugs under the beds to step onto in the morning. The only thing Enjolras disliked was the shared bathroom across the hall. This presented many issues with showering rights. Of course there were other showers in the institute, it’s just that using the one across the hall was much easier than walking down tons of stairs to use the ones by the training room.

After changing into pajamas, Enjolras fell back onto his mattress and shuffled under the covers. Then he stared at the ceiling. His brain rushed with ideas and things he wanted to fix. He thought about what a different leadership for the Shadow World would look like. He considered why a robot had attacked them earlier. He remembered Javert saying something about and old threat being used again. He would have to look into that.

It became clear the Enjolras wasn’t going to leave consciousness anytime soon. 

On nights like this he would climb up to the roof to watch the stars until he eventually fell asleep. As he marched up the steps his slippers stayed silent and Enjolras could hear the wind and subtle buzz of night. He finally stepped out into the air and smiled for about three seconds before noticing a silhouette sitting with his legs dangling off the building.

“Um. Hello?” Enjolras spoke and the figure jumped, almost losing balance and falling, which made Enjolras rush forward, “Be careful!” he exclaimed and grabbed the person’s arm. 

“Sorry,” Grantaire looked up at him, “I’m probably not supposed to be up here. I can go‒”

“No, it’s fine. I just didn’t expect anyone else to be up here… or awake.”

“Well insomnia is a bitch.” Grantaire said and then they looked at each other for an awkward amount of time.

“Do you mind if I sit?” Enjolras asked because what else was there to do?

“It’s your roof,” Grantaire swooshed his and over the area next to him. Enjolras carefully sat with his legs criss-crossed, he was not hanging them over the ledge. Grantaire was looking out at the city and as peaceful as he looked his eyes were sad. Enjolras was not a ‘feelings’ guy. He was not going to ask if the other man was okay and he most definitely did not care. Definitely.

“Do you like Paris?” Enjolras asked instead. This was a pertinent question that could end up deciding whether or not he could tolerate someone. 

Grantaire scoffed in disbelief at the question, “Who wouldn’t like Paris? This isn't my first time here, but I’ve never seen the city from this high. I’ve really only seen the Catacombs with Jehan, who’s came to the institute awhile ago by the way. I showed them to a room Combeferre showed me. Anyways, the city looks perfect with stars above it.”

“That’s why I come up here. The stars.”

“Come here often,” Grantaire smirked. There was so much smirking. Enjolras just nodded.

“Unless it’s raining, of course. Then I wander around the Institute.”

“Might I say that your Institute is what I would call hot.”

Admittedly Enjolras did find it odd that Grantaire was calling his Institute ‘hot’, but he got the meaning. Then the other man proceeded to go on a long-winded soliloquy about all the history Combeferre had told him on the tour. Enjolras felt kind of bad because he assumed the Grantaire wouldn’t have listened to anything Ferre was saying, but sometimes people were full of surprises.

The night sky was so perfect, but it was slowly getting brighter. Enjolras let his muscles relax a bit as he laid down to look up at the stars without craning his neck. He just listened to the rhythm of Grantaire’s words and let stars twinkle in his eyes. He noticed when the talking suddenly ceased.

“Can I ask you something?” Grantaire asked quietly and Enjolras looked over which seemed to be enough of an answer for him, “Why do you want to help us so badly? I know that you want equality, and that’s great and all, but there’s very few Shadowhunters like that. Why you?”

It wasn’t an easy question to answer. There was no defining moment of when he decided to fight for Downworlders rather than against them. The real answer, the one which was boring and not exactly a tribute to having ‘naturally good character’ wasn’t exactly something he told people. But Enjolras was extremely tired and his words filter was long gone.

“When I was little, maybe seven, everyone started telling me what to do. As a Herondale so much was expected of me and I had to be the very best which meant I had to follow all the rules. I got kind of fed up with it and I wanted to be rebellious. I remember how everyone I met would try to convince Downworlders were bad and that’s what I chose to rebel with. I was going to be an ally to any and all Downworlders. Then I did actual research and formed opinions that coincided with my rebellious phase. Since then I can’t stop fighting for what I believe in. It’s such a dumb cause but it has lead me to be who I am now.”

“A short fiery ball of passion and anger.” Grantaire stated and nodded once. Enjolras laughed at this. His laugh was pretty childish and high pitched; it lacked elegance. Grantaire was looking at him with something weird in his expression. Enjolras could feel the gaze on him and sat up to meet the blue eyes with his own to try and find out what the ‘weird’ was, but Grantaire just looked back at the city, “The sun is going to rise in like an hour.”

“Oh. It’s really late, well early I guess.” Enjolras hadn’t noticed his lack of sleep so much as usual. “I’m going to try and get at least a little sleep.”

That seemed like a goodbye in of itself so Enjolras stood up and sleepily made his way to his bed where he fell asleep immediately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading this chapter and moving along the story with me. So I said this would be about 10-15 chapters before and if that ends up being true this is basically the halfway point. Take that information however you'd like. (There is a chance I might bump up my estimate to 15-20 chapters based on how long they have been so far, but no promises. I don't really know how much time I want to spend on certain things. My outline taunts me.) Still doing Thursday updates, so see you on September 13th. I'll just be here rushing to get back on schedule.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Soooo there's crepes... I expected more to happen in this one, but not much happens at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I DEFINITELY did not finish this chapter five seconds before posting this. That's totally ridiculous *nervous laughter*.

It wasn’t the sunlight shining directly into his face, the toll of 10am bell, or the unpredictable natural cause that rouses one from their sleep that woke Enjolras up. It was the smell. Somebody was cooking something somewhere and it was good. So that meant either Valjean was visiting and treating them to breakfast, or one of the New Yorkers was cooking. At the point of waking up Enjolras really couldn’t care less who it was. So long as there was a serving the chef was a god among Nephilim. 

Since it was ridiculously late the shower across the hall was completely free and ready for use. Although, a sticky note had been placed on the door which read: “This one, Boss, don’t accidentally walk into someone’s room. You’re welcome. -R”. 

Enjolras had an epiphany. People had called Grantaire R a couple of times and his tired state had prevented him from getting the joke. In his freshly rested state he finally got the pun. Grantaire, Capital R, R. If he had looked into the mirror of the bathroom then he’d see his smile at the French derived pun. He couldn’t say it wasn’t cheesy, but it was quite entertaining. Except it was probably some inside joke with Grantaire’s real friends. Enjolras decided to stay on the non-nickname basis.

After washing his golden curls with his favourite shampoo brewed by top notch warlocks he pulled his hair back into a loose man bun. Whenever he needed a haircut he had Cosette snip it the perfect length for tying back. It was quite convenient for fighting. It definitely wasn’t so long because Enjolras loved how shiny and perfect it looked. It was tactics not style. Obviously.

He headed downstairs once he had changed into some daytime clothing and went directly to the kitchen. Everyone, even Javert was standing about or sitting on counters talking as Grantaire stood in front of griddle. There was a brief pause in conversation as his friends acknowledged his arrival.

The kitchen wasn’t a place Enjolras spent too much time in. When he had attempted a simple package of instant ramen things went south quickly and several iratzes were needed. Suffice to say he was not a chef, but Grantaire clearly knew what he was doing and what he was doing was making crepes.

“Morning, Apollo,” Grantaire said as he stir some sort of strawberry mixture together, “As you can see I’m making crepes, although it’s my first attempt ever.”

“How very French of you.” Enjolras said a little rudely because, as it turned out, he was still not a morning person.

“Someone woke up on the wrong side of the bed, huh?” Grantaire remarked. He removed a crepe from a stack of already made ones and placed it on a place for Enjolras, “This will fix you right up.”

Enjolras took the crepe and looked at it suspiciously. He had no idea what was in it and he was very serious when it came to crepes. Grantaire was watching him with a practiced disinterest in his expression; he was waiting for a review. Enjolras slowly raised the crepe to his lips and decided it was only kind to humor the inexperienced crepe maker before him.

By the freaking Angel. This was his first try at a crepe? The creamy sweet and tangy mixture in Enjolras’s mouth was the single most holy thing on the planet. He took another bite and savoured the perfectness that came about it and closed his eyes.

“Would you like some room alone with that?” Combeferre raised his eyebrows.

Enjolras shot a quick glare at him before turning to Grantaire, “I need seconds and I claim any leftovers that may occur. Also what the heck is in this?”

Grantaire’s eyes lit up and he smiled, it was kind of wonderful, “Just some cream cheese, sugar, strawberries, and balsamic vinegar. It’s really not complicated or anything but I’m honored to have appeased the Great Apollo’s taste buds.”

“Last time I checked my name was Enjolras,” he grumbled through a mouthful of crepe heaven. Grantaire just shrugged and flicked off the stove top he used.

“Did you sleep well, Enj? You’re being all snippy, not that that’s unusual it’s just odd how you’re acting around guests.” Feuilly placed his now empty plate of crepes in the sink.

“Yes this is something strange indeed,” Joly smiled at Bossuet across the room. They seemed to be insinuating something that Enjolras didn’t necessarily want insinuated.

The previous night he had been a little preoccupied with confusion and demon slaying that he had not really paid much attention to his friends. Looking back it seemed that the New Yorkers meshed quite well with them and looking at Joly and Bossuet in front of him solidified that thought. Enjolras considered this quite odd. It had taken years to feel as close to Combeferre, Feuilly, Joly, and Cosette as he had become, yet they became best friends with the New Yorkers in one night. It’s not that he had anything against them, in fact he might go as far as saying he liked them, but people can’t just know who will be good for them in one night…. Can they?

“Ah, I see everyone is awake,” Javert appeared, seemingly out of nowhere, “Just because we are staying out of country does not mean anyone’s training will be skipped. Everyone can divide into groups of two and meet me down in the training room in twenty minutes. Do not be late.”

"What about Jehan?" Bossuet piped up.

"Prouvaire is exempt for the day. They are not feeling well," Javert responded. Enjolras knew Shadowhunters rarely got sick. He decided not to think too much about what that might mean.

***

The training room was the basement and definitely the most modern room in the building. It had red and black mats on the floor with white lightning lining a mirrored ceiling. The walls were covered in shelves which covered in weapons. Each one was made by the Iron Sisters centuries before and handed down from generation to generation. They were some of the most valuable items in the entire building.

When Enjolras got downstairs Grantaire was using a hundred year old dagger as a fake microphone to sing a duet with Bossuet who seemed to have already fallen on his back. This was going to quite interesting. They were wearing borrowed gear that hardly fit them and looked rather ridiculous. But it definitely wasn't funny because Grantaire was using a HUNDRED YEAR OLD DAGGER AS A MICROPHONE.

“What are you doing?” Enjolras asked snatching away the blade.

“...Singing…” And the moment became awkward.

“Well stop it.” Enjolras amended to say as he spun the dagger in his hands.

“Spoilsport,” Grantaire muttered under his breath.

Combeferre, Cosette, Feuilly, and Joly arrived together with Javert following behind them. They were instructed to sit on the carpet and listen to Javert’s briefing.

“Consul Valjean is technically in charge of this Institute, but he is not here, so I will take the liberty of leading you in your training. In a moment I will ask you all to partner up, one of you will be with me. From there I will demonstrate a defense strategy that each pair will practice and then perform the maneuver. Get started.”

The pairs were sorted easily: Enjolras & Combeferre, Joly & Cosette, Feuilly & Javert, and Grantaire & Bossuet. And they were just as easily disassembled. After only five minutes the New York pair had dissolved into laughing forms writing on the floor. Javert scolded them for their lack of focus and did the unthinkable.

“Monsieurs Enjolras and Combeferre, each of you must work with these delinquents from now on.”

Enjolras went for the obvious choice of trying to work with Bossuet, but as he took a step towards the bald man Combeferre practically leaped to claim him. Then he gave Enjolras a smile and a nod which, as they were closer than anyone, he knew meant ‘you are going to thank me’.

“Looks like it's you and me, Apollo! Isn’t this going to be fun,” Grantaire slung an arm around his shoulder and Enjolras couldn’t resist using that arm to fling the man onto his back. 

“Rule one of training with me,” Enjolras looked down at the mop of dark curls surrounding Grantaire's face, “You’re never off the clock.”

It was not an easy training day. He didn’t feel like thanking Combeferre.

Grantaire decorated their every touch with a double entendre that would make Enjolras’s nose crinkle up. The other man would smirk even more every time he was able to get a reaction to his antics. It was far too hard to focus when training with Grantaire. 

“You haven’t done this correctly once, and time is almost up,” Enjolras huffed down at Grantaire, who had once again been defeated by Enjolras’s perfect movements. “You are going to make me look bad.”

“Impossible,” Grantaire said quietly as if it wasn’t meant to be out loud. Enjolras pretended not to hear it. That seemed like a good option. Grantaire raised his arm, trying to get Enjolras to help him up. “Don’t you worry, Frenchie. Things are going to go just fine.”

“You may not care as much about protocol and training, but that doesn’t mean you have the right to ruin my instruction time.” Enjolras scowled as he took Grantaire’s hand which was oddly calloused. Skin like that was the result of only one thing: an instrument. So it must be guitar or violin, maybe even cello. Enjolras caught his mind before it could wander off from the task at hand. He would ask later.

“You have had long enough to learn this. Line up and I will call up each pair which will perform the maneuver,” Javert ordered.

On the way over Bossuet tripped and twisted his ankle pretty badly to which Javert just facepalmed and whispered something to himself. Joly swore he heard a crack and inspected the wound to check if it broke although it ended up being a pretty minor sprain. It was decided Feuilly would work with Combeferre while Bossuet went to get his stele. 

Of course Combeferre and Feuilly each performed the defense sequence perfectly. Cosette and Joly got shining compliments for how nimbly and quickly they worked. It was time to show off the failure that was training with Grantaire.

Enjolras went first quickly taking the other man down. Then it was Grantaire’s turn which ended way faster than expected. At the moment Enjolras was too stunned and busy having his face flush red to realize that Grantaire had hands down done the move best. It involved hooking your elbow around an arm and using your feet to trip your opponent. What shocked Enjolras was that there was no reason it should have ended in Grantaire straddling him as he lied on his back.

“Wonderful everyone. Go take showers and continue with your day. If you need me I will be in the library.” Javert dismissed them quickly.

Grantaire rolled off of him as if nothing weird had just happened. Enjolras stayed on the floor in the the man was well out of the room. 

Feuilly drifted into view smiling mischievously, “Something the matter there, Enj?”

“No,” Enjolras glared and added, “Shut up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you didn't notice I haven't really been editing.... This chapter was kind of rushed and I'm so sorry about that. I should have more time for this next one. Also sorry for updating later than usual. This week has been a lot. Still Thursday updates, see you on the 20th!


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After two chapters everyone gets to see each other again yay! Well, not Parnasse. He's not in this one. But I've made some plans for him. I should stop spoiling stuff now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sup peeps *skateboards into room with sunglasses* this is my first chapter (that wasn't pre-written) to be done before the day I was supposed to post it. *does flip on skateboard and rolls out*
> 
> (Authors note: I cannot actually ride a skateboard, it wouldn't end well.)

He was not thinking about Grantaire because there was no reason to be thinking about Grantaire and all the mysteries the man contained. He was also not thinking about the earlier training and obviously not about strawberry crepes. That would be ridiculous because he was thinking about how he would help the New Yorkers to make a statement about Downworld equality so they could be on their merry way.

Enjolras got lost in thought quite often and just as often wandered around the Institute letting his brain analyze problems and generate solutions. Sometimes he would find himself seeking out Combeferre for a more philosophical point of view or find Feuilly to share in his passion for justice. When his thoughts became negative he would go to Joly who would console him back to positivity and if he needed to calm down he would have Cosette style his hair. This system had developed over years and years, and for the first time since he arrived in Paris, Enjolras did not meet with one of his team members during his thought process. This time he unintentionally ran into an almost stranger as he wandered through a hallway decked with paintings.

“Salve, Enjolras,” Jehan smiled from where they had perched on a windowsill as they greeted him in Latin.

“Oh, hello Jehan. I didn’t see you there. I hope I didn’t disturb you.”

Jehan swung their legs back onto the floor, “Do not worry, I haven’t much inspiration to write anyways.”

“Oh, what were you writing?” Enjolras asked now noticing the notebook and pen in Jehan’s hand.

“Like I said I was not really writing,” Jehan smiled and then blushed a little, “But I write poetry.”

That was rare. Very few Shadowhunters were as into artistic adventures. Enjolras had been lucky enough to grow up with more abstractly inclined friends, but it was good to see things like writing were valued by Nephilim outside of his Institute as well. Jehan went on to explain that they love Romanticism and try to emulate the styles of Shelley and Byron mixed with the more modern styles of Poe and Dickinson (Although they were not what Enjolras would consider ‘modern’ at all). Enjolras admittedly did not understand a lot of what Jehan was saying, but they didn’t mind and explained everything as well as they could.

After a lull in the explanation Enjolras decided to appease his curiosity, “Sorry if this is rude, but can I ask why you were exempted from training? You don’t have to answer because it’s really none of my business and‒”

“No, it’s fine. I trust you because you’ve been quick to earn the trust of Grantaire, and besides I’m not one for secrets,” Jehan was still smiling but there was sadness now too. “You have already discovered the majority of me is Faerie from our short time together. My hint of Nephilim blood is what forces me to be a Shadowhunter. Although neither side of my lineage seem too keen to welcome me into their arms. My parents died when I was a child, murdered because of their biracial relationship. Today marks the day they were killed.” Enjolras suddenly felt very bad for asking. 

“Jehan, I didn’t know, I’m so sorry.”

“That is not even why today is my yearly off-day.” Jehan reassured him, “I never knew my parents. I have heard whispers that they were good people, but that’s all I have of them, and I cannot miss them because of that. But knowing why they were killed is the issue. Every year on this day I am reminded that I am the other. I am forced to remember that I am not seen valid and that I have no supporting bloodline. Not just my Fae blood, but the fact that I’m non binary, Shadowhunters cannot seem to handle my different. I’m am lucky enough to have my New York family. Even Javert, the stiff wall of a man, respects my races and gender. But now I have to add ‘being banned from seeing my chosen family again’ to list of reasons why today is a dismal point.”

“I’m going to change that,” Enjolras stated feeling his passion for justice ring throughout his entire body.

“I do hope so,” Jehan placed their hand on Enjolras’s shoulder for a second, “I know what he sees in you, I trust you will not doing anything unwise, or you will have to deal with me.” Then they left leaving Enjolras mildly scared and very confused.

***

Combeferre followed rules when the rules were not dumb. As Enjolras walked with him they were both in agreement that staying away from the New York Downworlders was a dumb rule. 

How exactly could Enjolras get full perspectives on what their next move should be without a visit? It was decided that they would meet with the Downworlders as soon as possible. The New Yorkers were strictly told to stay at the Institute and not break the ban because would only suffice to make the Clave angry. An angry Clave was a bad one to reason with. It was surprisingly easy to convince them to stay.

It was really a great suggestion from Ferre, very strategic, and his other friends seemed to agree as well. It seemed they were all just as eager as Enjolras was to be on their way to Courfeyrac’s flat so that they could unravel the injustice binding their limbs. The walk there went by quickly and thoughtfully like all of his walks in Paris. Combeferre took a deep breath before knocking on the door.

“Combeferre! You just couldn’t stay away could you,” Courfeyrac opened the door and waggled his eyebrows. Right, that. Perhaps his friends were eager to come here for far different reasons than his.

“We are actually here on business,” Combeferre made a gesture to the rest of the group.

“Oh, well, you know what they say. You’ve got to mix a little pleasure into your work,” Courfeyrac led them all into the living room where people were scattered around.

“No one says that,” Eponine shouted from in front of the TV.

“I did and I am hardly no one,” Courfeyrac shook a sleeping Bahorel on his couch, “Get up so our guests have a place to sit.”

The burly man rolled onto the carpet and groaned as his side hit the floor, “I could’ve sworn there was a matress there earlier.”

“Have you been sleeping all day?” Feuilly offered Bahorel a hand.

“Hell yes I have been. You gotta a problem with that, Ginger-boy?”

“I don’t know, Lumberjack, you tell me.” Feuilly pulled him up with impressive ease considering their size difference. So this was going to be just him, Cosette, and Joly. 

“Hi Marius! I’ve missed you since yesterday!” Just him and Joly. 

“Musichetta! Bossuet asked me to say hi from him and I’d like to say it’s good to see you again.” Just him.

How wonderful to be on a quest for justice all by yourself. Enjolras took his seat on the sofa and scowled at the wall for a minute before speaking up.

“Now that we’ve all gotten over the hardship of not seeing each other for less than a day, can we get back to politics?”

“Please!” Gavroche exclaimed from where he was laying in Eponine’s lap.

“Sorry Enjolras, we just wanted to catch up!” Joly smiled. He was sitting very close to Musichetta, “Why don’t you get us started?”

Enjolras didn’t have to be asked twice, “We all know that the ban placed onto the NEw York Institute is unjust and discriminatory. Therefore, we also know that it is our solemn duty to fight this ban. I believe that with all of our perspectives combined we can create an inarguable presentation for the Clave and not only remove the ban, but push the Clave towards equal treatment for all who share our planet.”

“I propose we split into groups to brainstorm then reconvene to combine our concepts,” Combeferre offered.

“Yes, thank you, Ferre. Now you can pick your groups so long a you do work. Let’s get it done.” Enjolras smiled because he noticed how he was fanning the flames in their hearts. That’s why the Clave liked him so much, he could rally troops. He could inspire people to always continue the fight. Alas that was also the reason the Clave liked to keep him in check. He was born a leader, but also a lover of liberty. Nothing was going to stand in his way.

“Hey guys! Sorry we’re late,” Bossuet, Jehan, and Grantaire entered through a hall that must lead to a back door.

“By the angel, what are you doing here? If the Clave finds out there is no way they’re going to listen to me!” Enjolras was not going to let them ruin their own cause.

“You didn’t seriously think we were going to sit around while you visited our best friends and plan a resistance, did you?” Grantaire crossed his arms and Enjolras made a face that said, ‘yes, I most definitely did’. 

“We claim Boss for our group!” Musichetta called raising her and Joly’s arms, “What? We’re not gonna stop this whole process just because they showed up. Get moving people.” And so they did.

Enjolras grouped with Combeferre and Courfeyrac. The three of them were far more effective a team than Enjolras could have expected. It seemed that Ferre and him had been missing so much without the wit and creativity of Courf. Enjolras was not going to admit he began feeling as connected to these New Yorkers as his friends.

“That will work just fine,” Combeferre looked down at the notebook the trio had filled up several pages of, “Should we call time and get our final plan together?”

“Yes, I think this is a good point to figure out what we are going to do,” Enjolras felt the excitement of a plan brewing in his chest, “Courfeyrac if you would do the honors.”

Courf responded happily, “Of course, dear Enj,” then added loudly, “Gather around amis, we are going to make a plan!”

The plan heavily rested on Enjolras shoulders, and he liked that. Having something in his own hands was a way to ensure control. He was going to meet with the Clave later in the week (this would be scheduled by Cosette’s father). Combeferre, Feuilly, and Eponine would write him a speech to read to the Clave that would present the perfects points of argument (provided by Bahorel, Musichetta, and Bossuet). Once the rule was reversed they would start a movement to work for all Downworld rights. 

“You seriously think they will take away the New York ban because of a speech?”

“Have faith, Grantaire,” Enjolras cast his gaze on the skeptic and added half in French, “Nous sommes amis de l'abaissé! We will not abandon those born with less privileged than us. And even if this fails we will have tried our hand at change, and can try again.”

A thoughtful look crossed Combeferre’s face and he wrote something on a clean page of the notebook and showed it to the room, “We are Les Amis de l’ABC.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed that one! I liked writing more on Jehan because I haven't really gotten to work with them much. I also keep giving Combeferre all the good lines which is fun.
> 
> Anyways I started a thing in which I may or may not be writing chapter 7 from a certain dark haired cynic's perspective, is there any interest in the creation of a fic that's just scenes from this one written in different character's povs? Let me know.
> 
> See you guys on September 27th.


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Time jumps and lots of rushed writing awaits you. Sorry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi, I don’t like this chapter. Have fun.

The speech was the result of three days split between Courfeyrac’s flat and the Institute library (where Javert had stumbled upon it, and casually set it back down, he couldn’t agree with the majority of the Clave this time). It was perfect, inarguable, and righteous. It had been edited time after time until each contributor could look upon it with nothing but pride in their eyes. The speech was ready.

It had become time for Cosette’s role to go underway. She was very happy to call her Valjean and schedule a meeting. It was a widely known fact that the Consul was willing to do anything for his daughter, even considering that he had taken her in and wasn’t biologically his. When Cosette was too young to completely remember her mother had fallen ill after being used and manipulated by a disguised demon, casting a dark image over the Lovelace name. Valjean’s sympathy and love for a girl of an almost disgraced name caused some conflict between the Shadowhunters which led to the rest of the unsavory Clave being put in power. Valjean’s vote couldn’t carry more weight than the entire Clave’s, alas he would never say no to trying. Scheduling a meeting was not a hard task.

“Hey Combeferre,” Cosette spoke from across the table where she had just finished reading her father’s letter, “will you tell Enjolras that Papa says he can fit us in at noon on Tuesday?”

“Of course, but I might wait until after he eats. With the date set I’m sure all he is going to do for the next two days is practice.” Combeferre smiled fondly as he thought about his parabatai odd habits.

“Oh no! I hope we don’t get another horribly sleep deprived Enj! That was a terrible week for all involved. Not to mention the health hazards involved!” Joly looked stressed at the mere idea.

Combeferre was not wrong (he hardly ever was). The very moment he found Enjolras and the words “speech” and “finished” left his lips the blonde was running to the library.

“Where are the cue cards! Somebody get me a copy of this thing stat!” He was yelling with so much excitement and passion in his gaze. The time was near, he could feel his blood stir in his veins at the idea of speaking with the Clave. He was going to rehearse the hell out of this speech.

“Enjolras, slow down and calm down,” Combeferre laughed bit, “I have a copy right here.” He pulled the cue cards from his shirt pocket. Enjolras’s cheeks gained a little color at the embarrassment, but that did nothing to end his fervor.

“Read for us, Enj! We can give feedback.” Joly suggested as he moved chairs to form an audience which would include Bossuet, Combeferre, Cosette, and Joly himself. It was a perfect idea and Enjolras could not value the opinion of his friend’s more. He read the cards and lost himself within them. The end of the words almost came as a shock to him as he was thrust back into reality where his makeshift audience was clapping brightly.

Of course that clap until only one person’s ironic slow clap remained. At this point Enjolras didn’t have to look to know. It was Grantaire. No one seemed to know how he had ended up in the library unnoticed and they all decided it was best not to ask. He leaned his body against a bookshelf behind and had probably listened the entire time. Enjolras took a deep breath.

“Is there something you’d like to say, Grantaire?”

“Not especially. It was really good.” That made Enjolras angry. Why was it necessary to march in there all secretly then slow clap like some children’s show villain, just to say ‘it was really good’.

“That’s all?” There was a hint of surprise in his voice and the other man simply nodded. After every interruption and distraction Grantaire wasn’t going to say anything. “Are you sure?”

“Pretty damn,” Grantaire looked him in the eye, “The Clave isn’t gonna know what hit ‘em. And this was just your rehearsal. They’re not gonna be ready.”

Enjolras had not expected a compliment, “Oh. Okay, thank you.” Grantaire winked at him. What the hell was going on. He turned his attention back to his friends who had a myriad of expressions ranging from raised eyebrows to shit eating grins. He pretended not to notice, besides, he had work to do.

***

The next three days were a blur. It was all practice unpon practice with Joly lingering near to force him to eat or sleep at intervals. Enjolras moved between the Institute and Courf’s place more often than when the speech was being written just to gauge what the Downworlders thought was most important. His readings to them mostly resulted in cheers and feedback along the lines of ‘hot damn’ which necessarily the most helpful things, but it meant he was doing well. By the night before his meeting he had become quite confident in his ability to deliver their cause.

“Enjolras, I swear to the angel Raziel, if you don’t go to sleep right now you will be so ridiculously sleep deprived that nothing you say will be coherent!” Joly order as Enjolras begged to go through the presentation one more time. He looked to Combeferre for support.

“Don’t look at me, Enj, Joly is right. Everyone else is asleep and you really should be as well.”

Enjolras grumbled something that vaguely sounded like the word ‘fine’ and trudged to his room. He flopped onto his bed and took a deep breath. Tomorrow was important for the New Yorkers. And it was important to his friends. He felt anger and passion rising in him, but he suppressed it, saving it for when it really mattered.

***

At exactly 8:00am Enjolras was on his feet. He had a mission. He marched to the bathroom and was disappointed to find it occupied already. Honestly, if he wanted to use his shampoo he needed that specific bathroom, so he slammed his fist against the door a couple times.

“What’s up?” A gruff voice said.

“I need the bathroom,” Enjolras yelled, “I have things to do today!” There was a bit of a tumbling noise inside before the door opened up just enough for a head to poke out. Said head belonged to a dripping wet, freshly showered, Grantaire.

“Shit. You usually wake up later. Lemme dry off a bit more and I’ll be out of your way. Don’t wanna screw up your morning routine on the big day.” Grantaire closed the door again quickly leaving Enjolras to consider what he had just seen. The water made the dark curls stick to the man’s face and drops to cascade down his neck. Enjolras snapped back to the present when the door opened and Grantaire stepped out. He was only in a towel.

Enjolras searched for words to form a sentence along the lines of ‘oh I didn’t mean to rush you’, but nothing was coming to mind. He was looking at Grantaire’s chest because it was just conveniently in front him and not because of choice. Clearly. And if any notice was taken that along with the rune scars there were real mundane-style tattoos there was no evidence to prove it. Not outside of Enjolras’s mind of course.

“You okay there, Apollo?” Grantaire was making a face at him.

Emergency bells went off in Enjolras’s head as he scrambled for a response, “I’m just thinking about today.”

“Don’t think so much, Apollo. As much as it helps you it’s shaping up to be your hamartia,” A hint of concern crept into Grantaire’s eyes before his expression shifted, “Now go fix up your hair while I get out of it.” If the shower was colder than usual if was definitely because of hot weather. There was no other explanation.

After fixing himself up Enjolras stepped back across the hall to his room where a shiny silver covered tray sat. Upon further inspection a pile of neatly stacked American-style pancakes were discovered. ‘Bon Appétit, Cuisine-Americano’ was written in chocolate syrup on the top layer. Whipped cream dollops with banana slices surrounded the pancake tower. It was beautiful and it was destroyed as Enjolras scooped up the tray and devoured the meal at his desk. That was they way to start your day.

The clock in Enjolras’s room read about 9:45am once he was ready to head to the library where he expected to see everyone. His suspicions were wrong as he walked through the large double doors to see only Combeferre leaning over an increadly old book. He looked focused yet content. It seemed like a crime to disturb him.

“You’re not very quiet, Enj, besides I can feel your presence through our bond, let me finish this page.” Combeferre pushed his glasses up his face. Enjolras sat across from him, allowing the silence and quaint aroma of books to seep into him. The stillness was such a stark contrast to the ever moving cesspit of his excitement to speak with the Clave. 

Combeferre looked up when he was done reading, “It has been a week since we had a quiet day in here. I have missed it.”

“Would you take any of this back?” Enjolras asked. It seemed like something to be said at the end of a movie, once everything had unfolded and been laid out before you. 

“I’m afraid that I’d always be willing to welcome our new friends back. Even with all the chaos they bring, they’re a breath of fresh air. Maybe I’m getting too attached. After today they might just head back home.” Combeferre smiled bittersweetly then sighed, “Do you want to grab a snack before we go?”

“That’s fine I had pancakes,” Enjolras could almost taste them again at the thought.

“Pancakes?”

“Yeah, didn’t Grantaire make everyone some?” Combeferre shook his head and Enjolras’s cheeks colored a bit. “Oh.”

“Oh, indeed,” Combeferre looked thoughtful, “If they leave will you miss them?”

Every bit of Enjolras wanted to say no, but he knew that would be a lie. He didn’t want to admit he could trust people within a week of meeting them. It was embarrassing that he could become such good friends with people he hardly knew, but he couldn’t say that anymore. They all clicked as if they were raised together, of course some were, but that is besides the point. Copious amounts of puns decorated by fourteen laughs and one sly smirk had become his normal. Lying to Combeferre would be useless anyways he would know how he felt.

“Yes.” Enjolras felt bashful and decided to make Combeferre feel the same, “Even if the others were to leave Courf will probably be reinstated. You don’t have anything to worry about there.”

This earned him a playful kick, “And Grantaire and they others would visit. He could make you breakfast on the weekends.” Enjolras did not dignify that with a response.

“Where is this portal going to open?” He changed the subject.

“Main hall, Javet will be waiting there.”

Enjolras took a deep breath then moved for the doors, “Let’s go to Idris.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not a fan of this chapter because none of the actually plot I wanted to get into this one got in there. Soooooo I might write another chapter and get it posted before Monday to get myself back to where I want to be. But I didn’t want to miss an update just trying to finish this one, so I’m giving you this part and making the rest into chapter 11. I will definitely see you on October 4th, but hopefully sooner as well.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras chats with the Clave.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually did it, yay! I'm back where I want to be in the story. I'm having a great time this weekend as I write my fic instead of doing my ridiculous amount of homework for Monday. Besides, we all know that if I ignore my work it will just disappear. I forgot to paste in the actual chapter text the first time I tried to post this, I think I need more sleep. Enjoy the chapter!

Javert had rushed the pair of parabatai through the portal scolding them about being late. It seemed he had taken on the role of their advisor as the week progressed. Always turning a blind eye from their plot, but Enjolras liked him. As much as Javert routed for the law he also knew what was right. That was respectable.

“What are you going to do for two hours?” Enjolras inquired. “Not that I’m against arriving early.”

“It seems that over the past week you have forgotten that those in my charge have been borrowing spare clothes and supplies. I’m going to pick some things up for us. I do have a responsibility for their comfort and safety.” Javert said this semi-passive aggressively. 

Enjolras has not realized that. They were living in a foreign place without any of the comforts they had collected back home. He was horrified at how terrible a host he had been. 

“Are you okay, Enj? You’re glaring at nothing again,” Combeferre asked skeptically.

“I’m just caught up in the pressure for this meeting.” The lie was obvious because he loved pressure to motivate him, but Ferre didn’t call him out on it.

“Okay. I won’t address that now, but don’t think I will forget,” Ferre warned, “Now let’s see what’s changed here since our last visit.” There was no protest from Enjolras, so they went along the gorgeous road to Idris.

Time rocketed by as they entered an old library Ferre had fallen in love with during their last visit. Enjolras had sat down with a book called “A Tale of Two Cities” that he had heard about many times before. It was a book that had a history with his family and it was due time he picked it up. Combeferre, book lover extraordinaire, had to drag him out of the pages and back to reality and  
towards the meeting.

***

Enjolras was standing in the waiting room pacing back and forth. It was finally time. His friends were counting on him and he was not going to let them down. And even if he hadn’t grown used to the New Yorkers, this was a fight for what is just. This was a call to action for the Clave to ensure that any member of the Shadow Worlds would be treated equally. It could be historic.

“Enjolras Herondale, the Clave is ready for you,” the desk worker called as two large double-doors swung open to admit him in. He thanked the receptionist, shared a reassuring look with Combeferre, and went in.

This was a private meeting, so the room wasn’t a theater, but it was still impressive. Rows of seats were layered upwards, all looking down on the floor where Enjolras was to deliver his speech. He spotted Valjean in the front.

“Mr. Herondale, we have been told you have prepared a speaking piece for us regarding the New York Institute. Feel free to begin when ready.” Valjean gave him a calming smile.

Enjolras took a deep breath and let the fire in his heart consume him The words flew naturally from his mouth as if they had been waiting in formation until the time was right to migrate. His eyes filled to the rims with passion and his gestures held power within them. He knew he must look like he was shining because he felt alight. Every bone in his body quaked with anticipation until the last word had played its course and floated neatly in the air, waiting for judgement.

Valjean clapped, and at first it was just him, but the applause spread until it had reached every Clave member. Enjolras could sense that most of the applause was forced. They still didn’t see the light.

“A rousing performance, Mr. Herondale, but the Clave must now vote.” A spindly man spoke up and commenced by placing his vote. It was against Enjolras. Almost every vote was against Enjolras. He couldn’t help but imagine how the New Yorkers were going to look at him.

“I believe I am entitled to know why I’ve been turned down.” Enjolras stood his ground under the scrutinizing glares. 

The same man answered, “The Downworlder ban was placed onto the New York Institute for their own safety. They have gotten into trouble significantly more than any other Institute and they are also the only one in constant alliance and contact with Downworlders. It is a connection that cannot be ignored.”

“The Downworlders follow your rules. They’re not at fault!”

“Are you saying that their advisor, Javert, is at fault!” The man argued and Valjean shifted in his seat. 

Enjolras wanted to backtrack immediately. Javert has been nothing but good to them. “No, I have seen his work over the past week and he is a very skilled leader. He is not to blame.”

“Of course, then perhaps it is one of the young Shadowhunters that is the problem. Maybe the scruffy deranged one we should’ve had excommunicated years ago. I believe his name is Grantaire. He should be the one we ban, is that what you’d suggest as a better option?”

It was said like an honest question which infuriated Enjolras. As if he would say Grantaire should be de-runed and kicked out. 

“Gentlemen, I think what Enjolras would like is a chance to prove that we can trust and ally with Downworlders.” Valjean saved the men from an explosion of anger from Enjolras who had been about to speak. “Is there anyone against letting him run a joint team of Parisians and New Yorkers of the Shadow World? Raise your hand if so.” A considerable amount of arms went up, but it still was not enough to deny Valjean.

“Consul Valjean,” another Clave member announced, “we should have this team you speak of keep Paris under control for a week. If any damage comes to the city under their watch then they are not able to do their jobs. Any institute without Downworlders can protect their town for that long without a hitch. If you happen to be right, Mr. Herondale, this should not be a problem. Anyone in favor raise your hand.” Once again the majority was in favor. 

“Thank you. We will not let you down.” Enjolras nodded politely at the Clave, then stepped back into the waiting room.

A week would probably be fine if the whole robot demon thing hadn’t happened. Clearly someone was against the Downworlders working with Shadowhunters enough to attack them. If they were attacked again they’d be back to square one. Or worse.

Combeferre got up as soon as the doors had closed, “How did it go?”

“Not the way we wanted.” Enjolras frowned and glared at the doors, “They’ve given us a week in which we have to keep all trouble out of Paris. But we’ve been, and probably are going to be, attacked. It’s not going to be possible.” Saying that allowed felt like laying down his sword when having the chance to face his greatest enemy. “Ferre I failed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is shorted than my minimum 1,300 words, but let's just pretend that's okay because it wasn't supposed to be its own chapter anyways. I hope you enjoyed this update and I'm happy to say I finally figured out how I'm ending this fic, but I'm not going to give anything away. In regards to the fic from different POVs, since there was no immediate eagerness I'm not going to post that for now, but might end up doing that right after my final update here.
> 
> See you on October 4th! 
> 
> (If any of you do Inktober and happen to do anything inspired by/from this fic please comment with a link!)  
> (Don't feel pressured to draw anything, I would just like to know if you do.)  
> (Also if anyone writes another Les Mis/Shadow World crossover please tell me because this concept is so fun.)  
> (I'll stop with the parenthesis now. Bye.)


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> How to Write a ~~Good~~ Bad Summary:  
>  Enjolras does some stuff. Everyone else does some stuff. It's a great time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAnd I'm back to barely making my minimum words. I hope all of you have been having great weeks.

No matter what Combeferre said the crushing feeling in his chest would not subside. He was letting everyone down. How could he go back to face them after this? Would they even want to see him? He had promised them that he would demolish the ban and open the Clave’s eyes in the process, and he had been completely sincere. So now he was a liar as well.

“I would like a word before you two go,” Valjean stepped into the waiting room, “You made quite a statement in there.”

Enjolras had known Valjean almost his whole life, he had practically raised him. The Herondale parents weren’t the nicest people around. They lived in the mansion on the traditional Herondale territory of Idris with their Herondale prestige. That was not the life Enjolras wanted to live and his parents were never satisfied with him. So they sent him off to Paris to ‘achieve his highest potential’ and he did, but not in all the ways they expected. He honed in on his desire to help people and strengthened his passion for equality and justice. His parents had not spoken with him for years. Valjean on the other hand spoke with him a lot. When Enjolras first moved to Paris, he was welcomed so kindly by the Consul and his daughter. Each day when another Shadowhunter was stationed in Paris he seemed to gain another family member. His parents had done one good thing when they sent him to Paris.

“Thank you,” Enjolras attempted not to sound dejected and was pretty confident he succeeded until he saw the way Valjean was looking at him.

“I know that this is not the outcome you were looking for, Enjolras, but it’s very difficult to change ancient opinions so quickly. I will visit our Institute as often as I can for the next week to help out. Although I’m sure that with Javert in charge nothing will slip past him.”

As if he heard his name Javert entered the room carrying three bags, “Hello, Jean.”

“Javert,” Valjean nodded politely to greet him, “I trust that these two can fill you in on today’s meeting. How are you and the New Yorkers getting on?”

“We are doing just fine,” Javert answered and some dark aura of the past seemed to hang in the air between the two. It was making Enjolras feel uncomfortable.

“We should probably get going so we can tell the others,” Combeferre said alleviating some of the uneasiness.

“Yes, Combeferre is right. We’ll get you a portal back to Paris. Please tell my daughter I say hello.” Valjean smiled and then reentered the meeting room. It was time to face his friends.

***

They were portaled back to the Institute entryway, but they didn’t go in. It went unsaid that they were going to Courfeyrac’s flat where everyone would be waiting. It was far too long a walk for Enjolras’s thoughts not to wander. Consequently by the time he was knocking on the door he had thoroughly convinced himself that none of his friends were ever going to speak to him again.

“Come in! The doors unlocked!” Courfeyrac yelled from inside, “Unless you’re a demon, then you can get the hell away from us!”

Since Enjolras didn’t seem all too eager to open the door Javert moved into the building first. Combeferre ended up having to grab his arm to drag Enjolras into the living room. Everyone was looking at him, waiting, hoping, for a response. He was silent for too long.

“Shit.” Bahorel said, “That bad?”

“We have to keep all conflict out of Paris for a week.” Combeferre explained while Enjolras looked at the floor.

“But we just got attacked. Whoever organized that is gonna hit us again now that there’s more on the line.” Feuilly pointed out and made a face that perfectly conveyed how idiotic he thought their task was.

Montparnasse rolled his eyes from his shadowy corner, “What exactly did you expect from the Clave?” His voice dripped with hatred and all eyes landed on him, “You can’t have really thought this one speech would solve all your problems.”

“That doesn’t mean we couldn’t hope.” Jehan’s words hit Enjolras like a barrage of rocks and they seemed to have a similar effect on Montparnasse, just less external of course.

“I’m sorry, to all of you.” Enjolras brought himself to say and finally looked up at his friends, if they were even that anymore.

Musichetta crossed her arms, “And why the hell are you sorry? It’s not your fault a bunch of shriveling straight white Shadowhunters that believe in concepts from the dark ages didn’t change their minds.”

It seemed that she was… defending him… to himself. 

“Wait, Enj, you didn’t think we were going to blame you, did you?” Courfeyrac looked utterly appalled at the thought. Enjolras nodded slightly and Courf gasped dramatically, “Mon ami! No, you are our friend! And I can already see you’re not leaving us anytime soon!”

“I tried to tell you,” Combeferre said matter of factly. Enjolras felt so much relief. Of course Ferre was right. Now all the anxiety and pressure he’d felt dissolved in a fierce affection for those around him.

“In that case we better be prepared for whatever is coming our way,” the passion had returned in his blood. “We can’t let the Clave see us as less than what we truly are: equals.”

“There’s the Apollo we all know and love!” Grantaire shouted and Enjolras looked at him for the first time since entering the room. Their friends continued to chatter around them, but time seemed to tick slower as their gazes met. That is until Grantaire looked away.

“Before you all get back into whatever it is you’ve tied yourselves into I’d like to speak.” Javert had stood stoically against the wall waiting for the younger people to stop talking, “The normal curfew still applies. If you need me I will be at the institute. Grantaire, Bossuet, and Jehan I got each of you a bag of essentials.” Each bag was tossed to its respective owner. “Stay out of trouble. Just for one night.”

Bossuet was the first to open his bag, “By the angel! He’s known us too long!” He laughed as he pulled a fully stocked first aid kit out of his bag. Jehan’s first item was a set of candles and matches which only added to the point.

“Obviously he doesn’t know me that well,” Grantaire laughed as he produced a bottle of water, “So close, yet so far.”

***

The rest of the time at Courf’s flat was more of a ‘Nothing Went As Planned, But We Needed a Break’ party than anything else. Bossuet had, in fact, needed the first aid kit after tripping over his own feet while attempting the macarena with Courfeyrac and Gavroche. It was quite a funny scene.

After a couple hours the Shadowhunters headed back to the Institute with great protest from their friends. Enjolras still felt it was wrong that they couldn’t come in with them, but it was far too late and he as far too exhausted to argue. For the moment. He sure as hell would argue it later.

His bed looked so very inviting and kind when he arrived back at home. Unfortunately that turned out to be a simple facade because it was shaping up to be another sleepless night. Enjolras tried every thick in the book before giving up and making his way to the roof. 

Over the last week he had been so busy rushing around with notecards and leaving clouds of anger behind him. He hadn’t seen the starlit sky since that first night with Grantaire. Looking back he remembered that night fondly, decorated sad blue eyes and starlight. He remembered being unable to decipher the look on Grantaire’s face. Now that he was alone under the sky, he let himself wonder. Enjolras could have sworn the man had looked at him with‒

“Oh,” A familiar voice said behind him, “Uh, hi Apollo.”

“Grantaire, you can join me,” he was awake enough to keep himself from adding ‘I was just thinking about you anyways’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bonjour! Or should I say BOO! Because it's October now. We've all been waiting for SPOOKTOBER (am I right or am I right). It's not just the skeleton memes or whatever else happens in October. For me it's all about how pretty everything looks at this time of the year. I hope all of you see something beautiful today! Oh wait, you already fulfilled that when you looked in the mirror! (My Charisma Score +1)
> 
> See you on October *frantically flips through agenda to figure out what day it is* 11th!  
> (Ooooo that's the day when Supernatural season 14 premieres!)  
> (Won't be offended if you watch that before coming here.)  
> (But I swear to whatever powers may be, if I hear spoilers I will cry.)  
> (Send help, I'm becoming a parenthesis addict.)


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more rooftop and then some more food and that's it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't know when I decided Enjolras would be such a food fan, but I'm enjoying it.

Grantaire sat next to Enjolras leaving a considerable distance between their legs. They looked up at the sky quietly. The day had been horrible, but this moment was okay. More than okay really because being on the roof by himself was okay. Being on the roof next to an interesting and mysterious man with pretty blue eyes was great.

Enjolras looked over to Grantaire who was scanning the sky, probably looking to identify some of the constellations. His hair was as messy as ever but now only some of the curls peeked out from a maroon beanie. Javert must have bought it for him. Enjolras had to admit that it suited him well. As soon as he noticed Grantaire’s head beginning to turn he looked away.

“Hey, Apollo?”

“Yeah?” Enjolras said trying to hide any clue that he was staring a moment earlier.

“No one blames you for what happened. I mean you did something amazing. I get that everyone else contributed, but you made this all happen. It’s going to be impossible to keep Paris under control this week. But if anyone can do it, it’s you.” His voice was soft, but didn’t lose the scruffy edge to it that made Enjolras’s chest feel tight. And it probably wasn’t Grantaire’s voice making his heartbeat skip around, it was because he was stressed and tired.

Enjolras tried to not look as shocked by the statement as he was, “After all you’ve said about nothing working, how do I know I can believe you?” He had wanted that to sound more like a joke, but it came out very seriously. He was going to clarify, but the other man spoke first.

“Because I believe in you.” Grantaire and him met eyes for a fleeting moment. “That doesn’t come easily to me.”

Enjolras felt the need to say something nice, or change the subject completely. Either one would work. It was late and it seemed much safer to keep himself from saying or doing something he might end up regretting. Although he really didn’t feel there was much he could regret right then, but he chalked that up to his tiredness. 

“What instrument do you play?” Was what he ended saying to change the subject. Apparently there were things to regret because that sentence sounded so out of place. “I just noticed that your hands have calluses and maybe they’re from guitar or violin….” He tried to make it less of an awkward question and failed.

“Oh,” Grantaire sounded and looked a little surprised, but dismissed it quickly, “I do play guitar and violin, but also cello. It’s not really a typical Shadowhunter hobby, I know.”

“Actually, I think that’s great. You’ve got to be pretty dedicated to learn three instruments.” He didn’t want Grantaire to think he disapproved. The man played three instruments, could make the most delectable meals, and was so much smarter than he believed himself to be. There was nothing to disapprove of.

“I’m not sure how you’d feel about that statement if you heard me play,” Grantaire smiled self-deprecatingly. Maybe there was one thing to dislike, but Enjolras was going to try and change that.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Enjolras wasn’t going to let him sell himself short. “You will have to play for me some time.”

Grantaire hesitantly agreed before asking, “Do you do anything besides work?” Enjolras was a little offended and it must’ve shown on his face because Grantaire quickly amended, “Not that you seem like you don’t! I was just wondering…”

“Well I do play piano, although I haven’t in the past week.” Enjolras suddenly realized just how much he missed the feeling of keys beneath his fingers. “We can exchange performances sometime.”

“That would be nice.” Grantaire shifted his body to face Enjolras. “So our friends are getting along quite well if you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, it’s like being the fifteenth wheel.” This made Grantaire laugh which in turn made Enjolras smile because that laugh was just so perfect and beautiful.

They sat beneath the Paris sky in silence for an amount of time immeasurable as compared to the serenity around them. Enjolras, even tired, disappointed, and stressed out, couldn’t deny that on the roof with Grantaire, everything was in line.

Grantaire yawned dramatically which snapped Enjolras back to reality and said, “Even I’m tired at this point, and you should sleep too. I don’t think you’ve taken a break since I got here. You should try to sleep.”

“Only if you do too. You don’t look like you’ve slept either and Javert is going to have in us training again soon.”

“Well thanks for that lovely commentary on my looks,” Grantaire huffed and Enjolras’s eyes grew wide because he did not mean it as in insult, “Don’t worry, Apollo, I was joking. I’m gonna go now. Try and get some rest.”

Enjolras watched as Grantaire went back inside and waited a few extra moments before standing up. He was going to stay on the roof a bit longer, but it didn’t feel the way it used to when he was alone. Once you got used to something it was hard to go back to before, and Enjolras was in way to deep to go back.

***

The following day Enjolras woke up to loud knocking on his door. He groggily rolled himself out of bed and made his way to the door. Combeferre was outside to report that it was almost eleven o’ clock, which Enjolras only mildly cared about at the time because he was still not a morning person. He retained his morning mood throughout his morning routine until he went to see Combeferre again.

“Do we have any plans for today?” It was a valid question because the task of keeping Paris out of trouble wasn’t a step by step process.

“Same as always, but with a twist.” Combeferre said, “We’re headed over to Courf’s to discuss strategy, but instead of Grantaire making you some fancy meal, everyone is putting together a brunch buffet of sorts.”

That was a set of words that woke Enjolras right up. He was very insistent that they leave as soon as possible to this brunch and his parabatai didn’t argue. 

It wasn’t long before the Shadowhunters arrived at Courfeyrac’s place for the amazing brunch. And also figuring out how to protect the city, of course. It was nice to be done planning and get to revel in how amazing this group had become. The inevitable puns and laughter were infectious and they had been in Enjolras system for long enough that even he began to show symptoms. 

He also was in love with all of their cooking. Maybe not Bossuet’s kitchen skills, though, because his dish was extremely smelly and burnt, then thrown away due to Joly’s concern that someone might end up with food poisoning.

After plowing his way through a serving of each food, including toast, eggs, crepes, waffles, croissants, and various flavored pastries, Enjolras was back in business mode.

“Now that we have finished eating would anyone like to pose a solution to our problem?”

The best option seemed to be sending out groups on surveillance of the city. This would discourage any threats from plotting during the week. Cosette suggested that Montparnasse and Bahorel talk to their clan and pack to see if any rebellious members were planning to revolt. In short they realized that in order to keep Paris out of trouble they needed to know what was happening in every corner before it even occured. The task grew more daunting as conversations continued, but Enjolras didn’t lose hope. If he was going to do something impossible there was no better group to work with. Fourteen friends and a man who believed in him were the team he would choose every time.

And that was okay for days one and two. Day three was almost an issue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Happy belated World Mental Health Day. I dare all you lovely readers to take AT LEAST FIVE MINUTES for yourself today. Do something to calm yourself down or make yourself smile because you truly deserve it. You belong alive and well and I'm thankful that each of you are here. 
> 
> Also I hate tests. This week has just been tests upon tests (which is why this chapter is short). It has come to the point where my classes are not only testing my knowledge, but my patience as well. But that's school.
> 
> Check back next week on October 18th for Chapter 14! (Out of 20-25???? I don't know what I'm doing anymore)


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um werewolves, I guess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, welcome to the next chapter. Still barely meeting that pesky word minimum I gave myself. See you in the end notes. Also screw it I'm posting this chapter Wednesday night because I don't care anymore and tomorrow I'm gonna be super busy.

Enjolras could not have been more pleased with how nicely the week was going by so far. It was quiet and the surveillance teams continued to come back with no news. This was one of the rare cases in which no news was good news. But no news was also stressful. It was a constant battle to fight the voice in the back of his telling him that something was going to go wrong.

And Grantaire, of course, also told him that. Since the rooftop, Enjolras payed more attention to understanding Grantaire. He was quite sincere and thoughtful that night but out and about he acted so very cynical and obnoxious. If Enjolras hadn’t heard the words of belief with his own ears, he might’ve been having far less patient with Grantaire’s antics. Alas, that moment of vulnerability lingered in the back of his mind every time he saw Grantaire.

Enjolras had yet to take a patrol shift because all anyone wanted him to do was ‘repair his demolished sleep schedule’. That was clearly not a good use of his time in such a tense situation. So instead he read books about Shadowhunter laws, attempting to find a loophole to exploit. He was in the library when Feuilly jogged into the room.

“Enj, we have a problem.” Feuilly looked very serious, and he wasn’t one to lie about danger, so there was no doubt something was going down. 

“By the angel, what happened now?” Enjolras slipped a marker into his book and stood up so they could walk and talk.

‘“Bahorel was supposed to meet me for to see who would win in a fight, but he didn’t show. Then Jehan called about some tension in the werewolf packs since they’re on surveillance with Grantaire. I tried calling Bahorel and he didn’t pick up.” As he spoke each of Feuilly’s words were laced with more worry.

“Okay, we can go to check on Bahorel and his pack,” They had made it to the doors and picked up blades from the little holder that was meant for Mundane umbrellas.

“Jehan and Grantaire are on there way there. I don’t know what to expect, it can’t be too bad… at least not yet. At least the Clave hasn’t heard about it and its best we keep it that way.” Feuilly said as they quickly made their way to the werewolf territory. In most cities the wolves liked to choose a place to call home. Somewhere away from pretentious Shadowhunters generally. Enjolras knew of multiple spaces where they could be, but Feuilly assured him that they needed to check a boxing studio. Apparently the pack lived in a crappy abandoned warehouse and since Bahorel gained charge they had moved to a nicer place. And upon arrival, it was clear just how nice it really was.

“We’ll have to go to the basement, follow me.” Feuilly entered the building after drawing himself a stealth rune and Enjolras followed suit. It didn’t originally occur to Enjolras that Feuilly might have been there before. It was easy to forget that other people had lives when you sat and read books all day. Not that he regretted reading all day.

As soon as they got past the punching bags and Feuilly carefully opened a door marked ‘staff only’ noise erupted into the room. The door led to a cement staircase, but that wasn’t stopping either Shadowhunter from sprinting down them to see what was going on.

The basement looked almost exactly how Enjolras pictured the meeting place of a secret fight club, or maybe drug dealership. Either nothing about it was pleasant. The room was filled with people cheering and yelling. Enjolras and Feuilly shoved their way through the mob to see that they were crowded around two wolves getting ready to duel. One of which was of course, Bahorel.

Enjolras scanned the crowd and saw Jehan and Grantaire looked concerned on the other side of the ring of spectators. It was clear not a single one of them knew what to do. The cheering turned into violent yelling and jeering and soon enough the wolves in the center were jumping at each other.

The fight was horrible. It was all gnashing of teeth and blood spraying across the floor. Claws scratched patterns into the hard floors and gruesome sounds were echoing from the opponents in the center. The darker wolf, not Bahorel, was playing incredibly dirty even for a fight to the death. It gripped Bahorel’s neck in his jaw and flung him across the room. The fight wasn’t going well and Enjolras was about to look to Feuilly for suggestions, but the ginger man wasn’t there anymore; he had stepped into the center of the circle, in front of Bahorel.

“This is not going to solve anything!” He yelled and someone his voice resonated through every inch of the room. The wolf simply snarled at him, along with a good portion of the audience.

“Go home Shadowhunter!” One shouted and started echoes of the same sentiment, but Feuilly didn’t move.

“I know that we have our differences,” all eyes were on Feuilly as he spoke, “but this is ridiculous.” The dark wolf was shifting back into its human form and was passed a robe from an audience member.

“And how do you know what’s going on here?” The wolf was a muscular woman with jet black hair.

“You don’t want to follow a leader who consorts with Shadowhunters or Vampires, so you challenged Bahorel to a duel.”

“Pretty smart, this one.” The girl smiled evilly. “But then you must also know that by saying our hesitance to work with you is wrong, you are a hypocrite.”

“It was a mistake on our part and both of our races have things to work on but oppression only breeds more oppression. This is only going to cause more problems.” Feuilly was amazing and Enjolras could not have been more proud of the person the shy orphan from Poland had grown up to be. He was an inspiration.

The dark haired girl still refused to give in, “Sure, sure. And what on earth makes me believe you this time? Shadowhunters have only ever exploited us for greater strength in battle before throwing us away.” 

Enjolras chimed in now, “We have already launched a campaign to promote Downworlder rights. If we can keep Paris in order for the rest of this week then we can create a Shadowhunter-Downworlder alliance here and show everyone just how powerful we could be if we worked together.”

“Doesn’t sound ever so likely to happen.” The girl said, but something changed in her expression.

“For the sake of our mother, Paris, can we at least try?” Feuilly said finally. Instead of answering the girl simply left the ring showing a forfeit. Bahorel was still in charge.

“That was pretty diggity dang cool,” Grantaire appeared next to Enjolras. “Looks like Feuilly got us an alliance with the werewolves.”

Grantaire said ‘us’. Because they, and all Les Amis, were a team. Enjolras couldn’t help but feel giddy with the realization that Paris was uniting for a cause. 

“Hell yeah! Nice job, bro!” Bahorel had been given a robe and was holding up his hand for Feuilly to high-five. 

“You are bleeding from at least six places right now, not so high-five worthy.” Feuilly smiled at him.

“Why don’t you patch me up then,” Bahorel winked and Enjolras felt very uncomfortable to be in the middle of the conversation.

“Get a room already,” Grantaire laughed and saved Enjolras from a bit of his embarrassment, the comment ever earned a faint smile from him. It felt like something had been lifted off his shoulders.

After the werewolf almost-rebellion he no longer felt the looming pressure of danger.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey from the end notes. I never want to write an ongoing fic during the school year again. Who the heckity dizzley doo makes 100 point papers due the weekend of the school's first show of the theater season? ANYWAYS I'm not here to complain about my life, I'm here to tell you that Thursdays are still for updates.
> 
> See you on the 25th! 
> 
> (Wow the 10th anniversary of PINOF 1. Why do my updates keep falling on important fandom days?)
> 
> (Also you know that ending.... you ever heard of dramatic irony?)
> 
> (The play is "Radium Girls" by DW Gregory, if you care. It's a historical show about dial-painters in New York in the 1920s. I suggest researching the topic it's quite interesting.)
> 
> (Lol I bet no one even reads my end notes, they're basically as long as the chapters themselves.)


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Um. It got a bit dark, but not like too dark. Just more dark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, welcome back. Fun Fact: This chapter is literally only one word above my minimum. 
> 
> (I know I'm updating on Wednesday again. Sometimes I just feel like a early updating kind of writer.)

Deciding whether to sleep or go up to the rooftop was not easy. He was finally tired in a way that would actually make him fall asleep for once. But as he made his way to his bedroom he couldn’t help but wonder if a certain Shadowhunter was already up there, waiting and watching the sky. As tempting as the thought was, his bed was even more so after the last week and a half.

***

It was not light out when he woke up. In fact, it was so dark out that he couldn’t possibly be morning. It seemed that he had just fallen asleep. After the tiredness and darkness found his senses he finally heard the knocking. It was frantic and Enjolras snapped himself into action. His feet were cold against the hard floor as he rushed to the door and swung it open.

“Enjolras!” Jehan held a glowing red pendant in their hand, “Something is happened to the vampires.”

“What? I need you to calm down and tell me what’s going on.” Enjolras rested a hand on their shoulder in an awkward attempt at reassurance.

Jehan gestured to the pendant with their free hand and explained, “This is from Montparnasse. It glows when he’s in trouble. He has one too, but we’ve never had to use them.”

“Okay, we can go check it out to see what’s going on. If it's a big issue we can call in reinforcements, but for now we’ll grab Ferre and go. You should grab some gear and weapons and meet us outside.” Enjolras waited for Jehan to nod, then set off to Combeferre’s room. He was much easier to wake up then Enjolras himself had been and was ready to leave within seconds. They remained in his pajamas because this was to urgent for changing. There must be a real problem because Jehan was genuinely worried an if he had learned one thing from their time together, it was that they didn’t scare easily.

Once outside, the weapons were dispersed and Jehan led the group to an old building with a tornado shelter which descended into a basement. There was another door, locked but Jehan had a key. The staircase behind it was much darker and old which made sense as it led to a torch-lit room in the catacombs.

It was bad. Using the word “bad” to describe something was a habit Enjolras specifically avoided because there were plenty of lovely adjectives available, alas all his words were stunted for a moment. 

And then they rushed in: evil, inhumane, bloody, violent, horrible.

“By the angel.” Combeferre whispered as he scanned the room.

Bodies were laid out across the floor, all vampires. Terrible wounds were forever patterned on them. Whoever did this was merciless. Humanity was what the Shadowhunters were always lacking in, and it was undoubtedly that Shadowhunters has done this. It must be the Patron Minette, no one else would go this far.

“I don’t see Parnasse.” Jehan said carefully, weighing each word. “Who did this?”

“It was them, wasn’t it?” Combeferre asked which confirmed Enjolras’s suspicion.

“The Patron Minette.” Enjolras said and glanced over to Jehan whose face was full of worry and confusion, “A terrorist group.” His body tightened with the word, “They base themselves in Paris. It’s been a while since they last resurfaced. The Clave looks right over their crimes.”

During the explanation Jehan stepped farther into the tunnels. Their posture was rigid and some of their grace seemed to have evaporated into the stale air. Enjolras followed after them because splitting up was not a good idea, especially not in a maze of human bones. Combeferre walked next to him, blade ready to fight. 

Jehan had led them down winding paths that let out at the throne room, the only place Enjolras had been before. They opened the doors and stepped inside to see bloodstains on the floor leading up to the throne. Two red, dripping letters were writing on the wall behind it, “PM”.

“For Patron Minette. They slaughtered the vampires, just for being Downworlders,” Jehan looked sick, “Their going to attack the werewolves next aren’t they.”

“Maybe.” Combeferre was still processing the attack. Nothing so big as this had happened in Paris since they lived there.

“They might attack any Downworlder that is in Paris. If they attack a fae they’ll just invite the Queen’s wrath on the Shadowhunters.” Jehan turned to the others after a moment of silence, “Would they have killed him?” Their expression was heartbreaking.

“I… I don’t know.” Enjolras said honestly. The Patron Minette was secretive and had members everywhere. He was no expert on them and there was no telling where they might strike next. “What if they attack the Institute?”

Combeferre was getting less calm by the minute, “Or Courf’s flat.”

“We have to go back. I’m sorry Jehan, we have to go now.” Enjolras would never be okay with himself if his friends got hurt. He went quickly towards the door and jogged out, but the doors slammed shut behind him. Enjolras immediately turned around and tried to get back in. He heard screaming on the other side and slammed his body against it, trying every method to get it open.

“Combeferre! Jehan! Ferre!” He yelled and felt his eyes grow wet with tears. “Open this door! Whoever you are, open this door!”

The screaming inside had ceased and the door unlatched. Enjolras threw himself inside and looked around, but the room was empty. Were the rest of his friends gone too? There was no way to know if they were okay or alive. The thought of it made him want to throw up. And of course this happened that week. He failed again like the last time and there was nothing he could do about it. All he could see were the bloody faces of his friends surrounding him.

He couldn’t breath. He’d never felt such pressure on his form before and all that he could process was that he was going to die. His heart felt clenched and the world was moving too fast. It was all wrong and nothing was going to be okay. What was he to believe in? That’s what Grantaire had said, ‘I believe in you’. Why? What made him so good, so worthy of such a rare thing as Grantaire’s belief.

No. He couldn’t let himself fall into this pattern. The last time this happened was when Combeferre’s eyes had been injured. He had sat alone in the dark for hours, wallowing in self doubt. The stretch over his and Combeferre’s Parabatai bond was bringing the dark feelings back. But sitting alone did nothing. The only thing to do was check on his friends and stop the Patron Minette. All he had was hope and he couldn’t lose it.

Enjolras jogged back through the catacombs, but he didn’t make it further than the tornado shelter when a phone ringtone went off. It was sitting neatly on a table waiting to picked up. Enjolras grabbed it quickly and flipped it open.

“Who is this?” He said letting all of the hatred and anger boiling in him seep into his voice.

“Hello, there, Enjolras Herondale. It’s good to know we have your attention. Your friend and the fae are alive. If you wish for them to stay that way, I’d say it's time to give up your crusade. It is impossible to believe that Downworlders are our equals. What do you say?”

The voice was scratchy and slimey. Enjolras would not dignify them with a response. He hung up immediately and crushed the phone under his foot. People who were prejudiced and bigoted had no right to control him. He was his own being and he was going to save his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and welcome to the end notes, aka my place to ramble on about stuff! So this chapter was interesting because I personally don't think Enjolras has his shit together nearly as much as it is generally made out to be. I was aiming at explaining him having a panic attack, although a better description would've been longer. Alas I'm still not done with my work for the night and that was not possible.
> 
> Chapter 16 on Thursday November 1st. 
> 
> (Also, don't be surprised if I pull another 'I'll post half a chapter and then finish it before Monday' for the next few updates because it's officially crunch time for my show and shit is getting real.)
> 
> (Also as I've already complained about, I have an essay due on show weekend for a teacher who is well aware that it's show weekend. Why are people like this?)


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enjolras does some things and goes some places.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi and welcome back to me not knowing what I'm doing! Yes, this update was technically another Wednesday one. No, I am not changing my updates to Wednesdays I'm just doing what I can to actually meet some deadlines. Have fun reading.

Deciding what to do when something goes so incredibly wrong is a terrible responsibility to place upon someone. Lives were on the line and every move was a risk. Enjolras didn’t know where to look or who to ask for help. Apparently his subconscious wanted him to talk to his friends because hs feet had carried him just outside of Courf’s flat. He raised his hand to knock, but just held it there.

Was it a good idea to bring all his friends into what was probably a trap? As a group they were a formidable force to reckon with. But bringing the leaders of the Vampire, Werewolves, and Warlocks of Paris directly to the Patron Minette could not be a good idea. Enjolras didn’t end up knocking at the door.

It was still the smallest hours of the morning and he was not so far from the Institute. No one would notice if he were to borrow some gear. He’d be quick, follow his Parabatai bond to where Combeferre and Jehan were being held, see if he could get them back, and if not, get reinforcements. He had to keep telling himself that nothing could go wrong.

Once he was back in the Institute, Enjolras drew himself a stealth rune and went to the training room supplies closet. He needed armor, weapons, a spare stele just in case, and a hair tie. He realized he was still in his pajamas. Going back upstairs risked a creaky floor board alerting the others, so plaid-striped red pants and a shirt reading “liberté, egalité, fraternité” would have to do.

Enjolras was making his way to a back exit when he hear heavy breathing and hands hitting a punching bag. He cautiously moved towards the room the sound had echoed from and peered in. It was Grantaire. He was sweating through his plain t-shirt and hitting the bag with every ounce of his strength. 

It made Enjolras remember just how good of friends Grantaire and Jehan were. It was like Grantaire knew they were gone. He just kept punching and huffing out breaths. He was clearly thinking of something complicated, so complicated that it angered him. Enjolras was even more determined than before.

“I’m going to get them back.” He whispered and let his gaze linger for a few moments of peaceful quiet. Then it was time to find his friends. 

Parabatai tracking was known for being one of the most excruciating pains a Shadowhunter can experience. But it was going to be worth it. The process get really required a warlock, but Enjolras did not want to disturb Courfeyrac, so he would have to conjure up something himself. 

He drew a tracking rune as close to his parabatai rune as possible in an attempt to specify what he wanted to track. Then he moved silently through the Institute collecting items for the spell he was attempting. He found everything quickly and silently thanked Joly for his organizational skills. 

He mixed everything up in a wooden bowl until it was time for the last ingredient, something from Ferre. He went to the library and tore a piece off of a bookmark that marked Comberferre’s place in _A Gentleman’s Guide to Lepidoptera_. 

If this was going to hurt as much as the stories said it would be better to be out of earshot, in case he cried out. Enjolras winced at the thought of what could happen. But was any consequence worse than the guilt of letting your friends slip right through your fingers? No. There was no pain was worse than the kind you feel only in your mind. 

He was finally outside and ready to drop the piece of bookmark into his mixture. A fearless rune seemed like a good idea because of the heavy beating inside his chest. He laid on the damp grass and reminded himself over and over why he was doing this, then dropped the final ingredient into his bowl and whispered ‘I need to find Combeferre Penhallow, my Parabatai’.

He could have sworn his chest set on fire except his skin was cold. It felt like his entire body was being ground up and melted into the cast of a person. Every single one of his muscles was tensed to its greatest ability and his eyes only saw red. He wanted to scream, but his throat was tight and he felt like he was being suffocated. Tears were on his cheeks for the second time that day as he silently suffered in the darkness of the tepid morning. The pain was excruciating and it never subsided or lulled. There was no concept of time as his body convulsed with agony. 

Then it stopped and the only thought in Enjolras’s brain was an old inn where Combeferre and Jehan were bound to chairs and blindfolded. That’s where they were being held. The thought lingered in his head as the rest of the world came back into his senses. His Parabatai bond felt more strained than ever. It felt like he was at the end of a rubber band and he needed to snap back to the other end. He got up all to quickly and felt dizziness cloud his spacial awareness. His blood was all in his head and was not ready to begin circulating properly for a few minutes.

Unfortunately he didn’t have a few minutes to spare, so he stumbled haphazardly towards the tightness of his bond, towards his friends. The tracking gave him a direct route and navigation around buildings to ensure he continued in the proper direction. Every step away from the hypotenuse path caused a terrible ache where his Parabatai rune was. He wondered if Ferre could feel it too, if he knew Enjolras was coming to get him.

Finally, just as the sun was beginning to rise, he could see the inn. He was being cautious and decided not to march up to the front door and knock. It seemed to be an actual Mundane hotel as people entered and exited every few moments. Although the people didn’t seem to be the best examples of Mundanes. Not a single one of them looked sober or even remotely logical. Of course the Patron Minette would pick a place no one would want to investigate. A dirty dilapidated inn that apparently doubled as a tavern and tripled as a headquarters.

Enjolras decided to try and sneak in from the back of the building and blend in with the Mundanes until he figured out where his friends were being held. His blonde hair was too obvious a giveaway of who he was, so he tied it up and stealthily snatched a hole-ridden beanie from a extremely drunk passerby. Next he needed to get a coat. The only option was taking one from the back of a chair of a man who had passed out at another bar nearby. His disguise wasn’t amazing, but it would have to do.

He feigned intoxication as best as he could although he had never truly been more than slightly buzzed in his entire life. Making it into the inn was easy enough. Once inside he set about scouting the area. His bond felt warm and so very close. His friends were definitely somewhere in the building. There had to be some sort of attic or basement he could find. Enjolras moved towards a staircase in the corner cautiously. He only made it up one stair before someone grabbed his arm.

“Staff only.” A grim voice said behind him. Enjolras turned slowly. The man was a Shadowhunter, and an incredibly large one. He seemed solidly dangerous and his eyes glinted with evil in the oddly lit building. The last thing Enjolras saw before passing out was a hand pushing a cloth towards his face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay Enj really should've known that was a bad idea. All I have to say is the fact that this update is happening on time is a miracle.
> 
> Chapter 17 should be on November 8th, but that's opening night soooooooooooo we'll see about that.


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some more backstory on characters that are not Enjolras. Montparnasse has a (well warranted) breakdown.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AAAAAAAAAAAaaand I'm back! I hope you have a fun time with this chapter. It felt really good to get back to writing after a long interlude, but maybe that's exactly what I needed. Also yes it is Wednesday... I DO WHAT I WANT!!!

Enjolras awoke suddenly when a bucket of icy water was thrown over his head. His eyes were blurred by the unexpected downpour and it took him a minute to return to his senses. When his eyesight finally returned he glanced around the room. Next to him was a metal cage in which his friends were sitting, looking rather amused by his arrival. Combeferre in particular looked like he was ready to Enjolras a stern talking to about recklessness despite their preoccupied state and Enjolras didn’t doubt he would’ve had a spindly man not stepped into the room.

“Monsieur Herondale, welcome to my inn. I see you’ve already experienced our top notch hospitality and met our very skilled staff.” The man gestured at Enjolras’s arms, which were tied down to a chair. Enjolras was ready to protest, but quickly noticed he’d been gagged. It was really inconvenient how late he tended to notice things. The best option here was to make annoying gagged noises to express his indignance.

“By the angel, let him speak,” a smooth voice resounded from what was probably another cage covered in a black cloth in a corner of the room.

“You’ll shut your mouth! The sun is just rising and I won’t hesitate to remove that curtain! Do you want to burn, Montparnasse?” The spindly man hissed out the name dripping with malice. “Now what was I saying? Oh, yes. My name is Thénardier, and my gang is the Patron Minette. I trust you’ve heard of us.” Enjolras growled the best he could as an answer.

“If you don’t let him speak you are just going to be talking to yourself.” Montparnasse let as much judgement and animosity bleed into his words as possible.

“I told you to shut up!” Thénardier seethed and stomped over to the sound. “I will let you turn to ashes you scum!” He reached for the cloth. Before he could an arm stuck out from the cage and slashed Thénardier across the face, but it was too slow, and he held onto the wrist.

“Parnasse!” Jehan looked wide eyed from across the room.

The sun was filtering in through a grim covered window and hitting Montparnasse’s hand. The skin began to blister and bubble. Steam rose from the red flesh as smoke streamed from the feverish and peeling skin. Muffled laments and moans came from within the cage and the horrifying sound of nails scraping across metal rang throughout the room. Finally Thénardier dropped his arm and the room was thrust into silence.

There was a heaved breath and from inside the cage Montparnasse whispered, “Screw you.”

“You already did that years ago when you betrayed us. I heard Claquesous was almost in tears.” Thénardier laughed and wiped some of his blood off his face, “But don’t worry, his and Babet’s descendants are just downstairs so you can reconcile with those idiots. My father told me that your dear friend Gueulemer ended up in the same situation, you know? But he followed through with our code. I’ve always heard you were such a disappointment.”

“What?” Jehan was looking at Théndier with confusion and betrayal in their face. “Parnasse is in the Patron Minette?”

“No, he is a liar!” Montparnasse yelled still not able to suppress the pain in his voice. 

“Oh, saying that? Doesn’t that make you the liar?” Thénardier smiled horribly. Enjolras felt just as perplexed as Jehan. Was Montparnasse working as a spy this whole time? Did he play Jehan just to get close to the situation? What in all the rings of hell was happening?

Thénardier spoke to Jehan, predatory, like a vulture “If you’re not going to tell them I might as well. Our operation started centuries ago. Your boyfriend, Fae, was one of the very first eager Shadowhunters to join our ranks. Oh, and he was brutal. The body count he racked up was incredible-- and all Downworlders. He became quite a legend and stories of our most fearless member have been passed down the generations. How he would come back soaked to the bone in the dead’s blood with a rose between his teeth. The ever so elegant officer of our noble cause. He was going to lead us. But then he met his match. Some vampire got to him and he died. We held an honorary funeral and everything. But then you had to go and get dug up. Turned into a bloody monster. We have a code for that you know. If you get turned it is your solemn duty to commit suicide. But he ran and embraced the poison in him. He became everything that he despised. An abomination on this earth.”

Jehan had tears streaming down their face, silently. They stared at the floor. 

“There was no point to saying that,” Combeferre glared at Thénardier.

“Now your pet Fae knows what it’s gotten itself into with that bastard. I’d say there was every point to it.” He turned to Enjolras, “And now you must understand just why it is so important that Downworlder are eradicated! Even their leaders are turncoats and traitors! Give up your ridiculous campaign and let the Patron Minette be and you can have your Parabatai and Fae back.” He slipped down Enjolras’s gag for a second.

“And Montparnasse?”

“After all of that you want him back? Now that you know what kind of monster he really is?!” Thénardier scoffed, but Enjolras held threatening eye contact. “No you don’t. It’s pathetic that you think he can feel anything. He’s not your friend. Leave him be and you can have the other two back. Just end the crusade.”

“Never. It is my purpose on this Earth to help any good-moraled person who needs it. The Downworlders need me more than anyone. Especially when swine like you exist.” Enjolras hoped his words felt as sharp as the daggers he tried to form them into, but the man remained unphased.

A quiet noise resonated from Jehan, “I’ll do it.”

“What is this I hear?” Thénardier moved towards them.

“No, little bird.” Montparnasse said breathlessly.

“If I tell my friends there is no hope they won’t fight you anymore.” Jehan explained and Enjolras shared a worried glance with Combeferre.

“Now that’s a good pet!” Thénardier grabbed a set of keys from him pocket and unlocked the cage door. Jehan stepped out calm for just a moment before punching the evil man in the stomach. “Shit, you little bitch! Babet! Claquesous!” The two men rocketed up the stairs and tore Jehan’s clawing hands from their leader. They roughly threw them against the back of the cage and locked the door.

“Your can’t get passed us,” Babet hissed. 

“I’m a bloody mess now! Watch the door Claquesous! Babet help me bandage these damn cuts.”

They left the room in silence. Enjolras looked at Jehan who was crumpled with their head in their hands at the back of the cage. He could still hear Montparnasse’s rough breaths and heaving. He didn’t have the clearest view of the burning, but there were flakes of charred skin in a pile on the floor showing that there was no real way to heal, even with vampire blood, from such an injury.

“Why did you come Enjolras?” Combeferre broke the fragile silence. “You are not that dumb.”

It was a painful question. He thought he could do it, be the hero and save the day. For once he would fix the big issue and change the world. It was dumb and it was pointless. The Patron Minette was too strong to take on. They had woven webs throughout the entire Shadow World and Enjolras had stepped on every string.

“Why didn’t you just try to escape?” He deflected with another question.

Combeferre looked down at his leg, which was twisted and wrapped in what looked like stips of fabric torn from his gear, “I couldn’t get up.”

It was like Ferre lost his eyesight all over again and it was still Enjolras’s fault. It was always his fault. His parabatai would be much better off without him. Every turn he took he was hurting someone new and it would be better if he just stayed in his own lane. He couldn’t change anything and he never would.

“Stop it, Enj. You forget how well I know you. None of this was your fault.” Combeferre mustered a weak smile that provided very little comfort. Enjolras didn’t want to think about and deflected his thoughts again.

“Montparnasse, are you okay?”

“Just perfect,” His sarcasm was the last thing that would leave him. 

“Parnasse, tell the truth.” Jehan said, words laced with a deeper request.

The vampire gave up with a shaky breath, “What do you want to know?”

“Start with your hand.” Jehan leaned against the bars closest to Montparnasse.

“It might as well be gone.” There was a long hesitation, “I won’t recover, but I will remain undead.”

Jehan’s shoulders relaxed and they closed their eyes tight, “And the rest.”

“I cannot lie to you.”

“Then don’t.”

Montparnasse’s voice grew monotone again. He was being careful to hide his emotions, “I haven’t seen the Patron Minette for centuries, but I was a member long ago.”

Tears began to fall from Jehan’s eyes again, “You should have told me.”

“I should have,” Montparnasse agreed and paused before adding. “What he said about me not feeling was a lie.”

Jehan opened their eyes and gripped the metal bars intensely, “I know. And to think what you must have felt. You told me about how poor you were before you were turned. How you were forced to do terrible things to eat. You said how your family raised you with flawed beliefs. But then you became what you were taught to hate. You are so strong, Parnasse. The toll it has all taken on you is horrible. But you’re not that man anymore. You are a good leader Parnasse. I know you can feel, but I cannot imagine just how much.”

There were noises coming from the covered cage, so silent and hidden that they were almost unheard. The sound resembled sobbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess I just wrote a Montparnasse chapter this time, but I'm not complaining. 
> 
> Chapter 18 on the 22nd
> 
> (The show went really well by the way!!!! Got some great feedback!)
> 
> (Also, I'm exhausted from it and have yet to sleep myself back to normal sooooo sorry if there were lots of errors in the text.)


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're still captured. Nobody knows what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I made it through another update yay!

Something inside Enjolras was clearly wrong. He consistently made bad decisions. Every time he tried something he was stuck in regretful retrospect immediately after. There was a broken piece in his brain that kept him from rationality. Why else would he be so reckless? The worst of it was that he wasn’t learning from his mistakes. He just kept screwing up over and over and never doing anything to change that. He was destructive.

But maybe that’s was Nephilim were. In all the history of Shadowhunters had any one of them been perfect? His ancestors had their issues. His overbearing parents were so arrogant; they never even cared about the fact the people they saved. Enjolras was confident he was fighting the good fight, but did all the wreckage he left in his wake count against that? His parents didn’t care, yet they followed protocol. But they made sacrifices he would never make. They would leave their team behind without a second thought. He was better than them. Not all Nephilim were the same.

“Enjolras I can see the gears in your head turning. What are you thinking about?” Combeferre broke his internal monologue.

Enjolras shrugged as best as he could with his arms tied down, “Just contemplating Nephilim culture.”

“Oh, yes, that’s the most important matter to consider at the moment,” Montparnasse’s cracked voice still had yet to lack sarcasm. “Any bright ideas on how we can get out of here?”

“We could try to pick the locks on the cages. I don’t know what we could use, but if anyone has pin or something it’s worth a try.” Combeferre suggested.

“I tried use my boutonnière pin when I first got here. The locks are too strong to pick with any measly objects we might have.” Montparnasse shot down the idea.

Combeferre tried to shift himself towards the lock, but stopped after his first move and instinctively grabbed his leg. He was very clearly struggling to keep himself from succumbing to the pain. 

“You need an iratze, Ferre, and soon. That must be worse than you’re letting on.” Enjolras felt it in their bond. He scanned the room and spotted his belongings on a table by the door. Jehan set themself upon examining the injury closer.

“Is it broken?” They asked. 

“It must be,” Combeferre rested his head against the bars behind him, “But it’s also an open wound. Depending on how long we are stuck here infection is a great risk.”

“There is a stele over there,” Enjolras gestured to the table with his head.

“Can you get to it?” Jehan asked, “Being tied up and all it doesn’t seem like the best idea.”

Right, that. But there were ways to get out of his bindings. He could try to throw himself and the chair against the floor to break it. Or maybe he could scooch the chair to the table and the scooch it over to the cage, which would be too loud and draw Thénardier back to the room. There was one more option that would not be his top choice, but appeared to be the only option.

“I could break my thumbs to get out.” As soon as he uttered it his friends gazes landed on him perfectly conveying their opinions on that plan.

“We can’t afford to lose another fighter. If we were to get out of here only you and Jehan are in battle condition. Two versus however many Patron Minette members are hiding in this building is not a fair fight as it is.” Combeferre looked at Enjolras sadly. “I really don’t know how we can get out of this one.”

They could try to get out the window, but it was a story high and Combeferre wouldn’t be able to make it. There was only one door into the room which was guarded so that was off the table. That couldn’t be it, though. There had to be a way. Even in the darkest of times he always found a way. Sure he was reckless sometimes, but he didn’t let good people get hurt when he could help it. This was not the time to give up he decided as the door opened admitting Thénardier into the room again. 

“Ah, I see you have not moved since I last saw you,” His face was now bandages where Montparnasse had clawed at it, “I won’t be staying long, but Claquesous and Babet would simply love to speak with you. Boys, come on in and set things up. You don’t have to have a conversation through that sheet. Bring in the candles and close the shades.”

The henchmen came in and executed the orders. Once the sunlight had been stopped Babet pulled the sheet off Montparnasse’s cage.

The vampire had failed to mention that he had injuries other than his hand. Jehan’s gasp at the sight was loud against the tense silence. Montparnasse had blood covering his face. There was a large gash on his forehead dripping blood into his eyes and down his chin, smothering what would have been tear tracks. His coat was torn and the skin that showed through the holes was bruised. He held the arm without the hand to his chest and heaved his breaths in and out. At the end of his arm there was a black charred section that crumbled with each shaky inhalation. The leftover flesh was blistered and seemed to be oozing with pus. Enjolras cringed at the gruesome sight of the man.

“You have fallen from the pedestal your friend would write you onto,” Claquesous knelt next to the cage, “Look what scum you are now. A broken dead thing in a cage. How any of my ancestors could’ve seen you as great is beyond me. He must’ve been blinded by your bond. He must have looked over the weakness in you just to become Parabatai with the top scorer of the year.”

“Oh, darling, if you think you’re saying anything new to me you’re so very wrong,” Montparnasse said monotonously.

“If you want something new I’ll give you something new.” Claquesous pulled an old piece of parchment out of his pocket and unfolded it. “An entry from your parabatai, after he found out about your undeadness. ‘My dear Montparnasse had passed, but some unheavenly demon had taken his body. In the night the beast came to the house. It tried to convince me it was my dearly departed, but I was too smart. I struck out with my blade and got many a good slash in before it ran away. I swear on the broken bond in my heart that I will never look upon that monster’s face again until it is separated from its body and lying on the floor. I will hunt and tortue every vampire I can find. I will not stand to see another bloodsucking abhorrence in this world.’” Claquesous smiled at Montparnasse’s silence.

Babet laughed, “What? No witty remark? Aw, the poor baby’s feelings are hurt.”

“People like you make me sick,” Jehan was standing and gripping the bars of their cage so hard their knuckles were white. Their eyes reflected the fire in the candles.

“Do not speak, Faerie!” Claquesous bellowed forcefully enough to bounce the sound around in echoes. He stormed to the cage and wrapped his hands around Jehan’s neck. Combeferre tried to move to help, but his leg kept him away.

Montparnasse tried to kick the lock of his cage out to no success as he yelled, “Get your disgusting hands off them,” 

“Now, now little monsters calm down.” Claquesous held onto Jehan’s throat for a moment longer then let them go. “I was just reminding you two of your place.”

Enjolras wanted to break out from his bonds and fight the gross man, “How can you do this to people? How can you forget that we are all people?”

“Oh, Monsieur Herondale, Downworlders are not people. It would do you good to realize that before they end up hurting you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for staying with me! 
> 
> As for the next chapter I am aiming for November 29th, but next week is another tough one so it might be a little late.  
> (I have a SumoBot due soon and have yet to write any of the code for it...)
> 
> Have a lovely week everyone :)


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There might be some rescuing. But not too much rescuing, let's not get crazy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wrote another thing: [Turned](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16717851/chapters/39209783)  
> It tells Montparnasse's backstory because I became very interested in writing that since my last few updates here. There will be some adventures and time jumps and stuff.

Claquesous had made a dramatic exit with Babet trailing behind him. That man was sick. The entire Patron Minette was a band of utterly terrifying people. It was hard to keep his hope up for the future of Shadowhunters when every generation brought with them a band of terrible Nephilim dedicated to promoting inequality in the Shadow World. Every time an evil was defeated another one surfaced and made itself known. There was no stopping the endless cycle. And what could Enjolras do? He was tied to a chair in a dark room where no one would know to look. 

It seemed that being held captive allowed for a lot of reflection on his life. Every other thought was on some moral issue. But that was not very productive in his situation. Enjolras reorganized his thoughts and focused on the present. That’s all he could to survive. Maybe worse things were to come, but that wasn’t his responsibility just yet. His job was to save who he could as soon as he could and it wasn’t time to give.

“I’m going to do it.” Enjolras decided and everyone turned to him.

“You’re going to do what?” Combeferre looked at him quizzically.

“This,” Enjolras said before slamming himself onto the floor and breaking off and arm of the chair. He dragged himself to the table as fast as he could and grabbed a blade and a stele from the side table. Soon enough he was out of his bindings and he propped the chair under the door knob to hold off the Patron Minette as long as he could. Enjolras passe the stele to Combeferre who drew an iratze on his leg. 

“They’re on their way up,” Montparnasse huffed, “What possessed you to think this idea was going to work?”

“It was worth a try,” Enjolras grabbed the stele back and drew some runes to help him put up a fight. The door had yet to give out to the pounding so he used his blade to hack at the lock on Combeferre and Jehan’s cage. He didn’t get very far before Babet stormed into the room and grabbed him from behind. 

“Now we can’t have that, can we?” Babet picked Enjolras off the ground, “We gave you a chair and everything. You could have been comfortable, but you’ve lost that privilege.” He tied Enjolras’s hands back together and then secured them to the top of Montparnasse’s cage. Then Babet hit him over the head. “That ought to hold you.”

Enjolras was ready to make a nasty remark to the man, but he was distracted by the door slowly creaking open. A wobbly man with dark curls and blue eyes peeked into the room and belched outrageously. Enjolras had to remind himself to breath after a few seconds.

“Oh, sorry to invade your BDSM attic. I thought this was gonna be the loo. I’ll just head back down,” Grantaire laughed ridiculously. 

“Don’t move.” Babet glared at him and grabbed him by the shirt collar. He began to pat Grantaire down searching for weapons.

Grantaire winked at Enjolras and suddenly turned back to Babet, “Woah there! I know this is a sketchy bar, but we’ve only just met.” Once Babet was sure he had no weapons he began to escort Grantaire back downstairs. 

“What is going on,” Combeferre voiced the thought echoing in Enjolras’s head. Why on earth was Grantaire at Thénardier’s inn, and why hadn’t he tried to help them since he was there. Was it some sort of trick? It had to be some sort of plan to rescue them, but if Grantaire came on his own it wouldn’t be enough. Enjolras had learned that the hard way. 

Jehan was smiling widely, “He found us. We’ll have to do our part too.”

“Sorry, bird, what do you mean ‘our part’?” Montparnasse asked clearly not excited to hear the answer. 

“We have a system, so if we are taken hostage we scream code for what dangers we have. R will be downstairs listening for it.” Jehan explained and Enjolras looked at him, confused, “What, we had to put it into place after the first time the Clave got angry with us. Do not judge it. On the the count of three yell ‘purple turnip’, okay? One, two, three.” Everyone yelled it and although it would supposedly save them, Enjolras felt like a total idiot. 

“What exactly was the code for?” He asked starting to feel pain in his shoulders from his arms being tied upwards.

“It means we are all alive, but injured and ready to be saved. If R has a plan he knows he can carry it out now,” Jehan said looking very proud. To be fair Enjolras was a bit shocked to find out the New Yorkers had a whole code system in place. “Combeferre, will you be able to get out of here with hurting yourself worse.”

“I am going to need someone to lean on, but the iratze is helping,” Combeferre examined his leg again, “Montparnasse, are you okay?”

“I’m always okay,” Montparnasse stood up and leaned against the bars of his cage. “Just get me out of this cage and I’ll kill Thénardier for you.”

“We’re not killing anyone,” Enjolras glared at the vampire, “We are getting justice.”

“Of course, getting justice.” Montparnasse injected sarcasm into his words, “The Clave is going to be waiting patiently for you to come and explain away the fact that you couldn’t keep Paris safe for a week. And as for me and your Downworld friends, we’re going to be killed if we try to see you again.”

“We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it,” Enjolras says, “All we can hope to do is save as many people as we can. Right now that means getting out of here and turning in the Patron Minette. I know that you have different beliefs than I do, but sometimes people need to get over that to work towards a common goal.”

“Oh, how the pot calls the kettle black.” Montparnasse sneered. “But just because you asked so nicely, I promise not to kill anyone.”

“You should really refrain from doing that in general,” Combeferre commented as the door knob began to shake. Everyone immediately shut their mouths and watched the door cautiously. There was the click of a key and the creaking hinges before Grantaire entered the room.

Enjolras wanted to shout or say anything to Grantaire, but the dark haired man pressed a finger to his lips as he shut the door behind him. He made his way to Combeferre and Jehan’s cage where he took a bolt cutter from his jacket and cut off the lock. Jehan helped Combeferre up and let him lean against them. He moved on to let Montparnasse out of his cage grimacing at the vampire’s lack of a hand. Finally he took out a blade and cut Enjolras’s bindings. 

“Thank you,” Enjolras whispered earnestly and Grantaire just smirked at him, “How did you get in here?”

Grantaire produced a key ring from his pocket and mimed getting patted down. So he stole it while Babet had searched him. It was a good plan, and that made Enjolras feel odd. Instead of calculating a surefire way of succeeding he had rushed into danger without any backup. And there was Grantaire who was following a precise step by step process to save them. It made him feel dizzy. Or perhaps that was the result of Babet hitting his head. 

“Come on, we’re going out the window,” Grantaire grabbed Enjolras’s hand and pulled him towards their exit, but he stopped short as Montparnasse spoke.

“Did you forget that I am a child of the night? I can’t just flee out the window like you.”

It appeared that Grantaire’s plan did not account for everything, “Shit.”

“We can’t leave him behind,” Jehan transferred Combeferre to Enjolras’s care. “You go get everyone else, R, and come back tonight. I will stay with Parnasse until then.”

Montparnasse was not a fan of the edited plan, “No, you’re going to get out of here. There is no use in you having to suffer when they find out the others escaped.”

“I already made my decision. I’m staying.” Jehan stood their ground. “Just promise you are going to come back for us.”

Grantaire looked at Jehan despairingly, knowing that his friend wouldn’t change his mind he spoke, “I would never dream of leaving you behind. We will be back.”

Voices began to echo up the stairs and it sounded like Babet was bounding towards them after discovering his lack of keys. Enjolras helped Grantaire and Combeferre out the window and turned back to the others. They stared at him for a second and shared a moment of solidarity. No one was going to abandoned. He would bring Les Amis, ready to save the people, they all love and those they swore to protect.

He would return with fire in his eyes and justice in his heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *Runs into room out of breath and slams chapter on your desk* I DID IT BEFORE THE DEADLINE
> 
> Chapter 20 will be here on the 6th of December (Festive season is upon us. Prepare yourselves.)  
> If you missed the beginning notes head on up there to check out another fic I started about vampire Montparnasse.
> 
> Thanks for being awesome.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So they're at Courf's flat and stuff happens.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, welcome to Chapter 20! I feel very accomplished for having an over 30,000 word fic right now.

Enjolras started to feel the pain from being thrown around by Babet. Combeferre was hardly holding himself up and had one arm around Enjolras and one around Grantaire. It was getting progressively more difficult to move through the city. The group had made it through several streets before Combeferre collapsed onto the cobblestone road. 

“Ferre!” Enjolras felt a tug at his parabatai bond and kneeled next to Combeferre. He looked back to Grantaire, “He’s breathing.”

“Good,” Grantaire drew himself a strength rune, “The Institute is to far away, we’re taking him to Courf’s flat,” Grantaire picked up Combeferre bridal-style which seemed difficult due to the unconscious man’s height.

They moved as fast as they could until they were finally at Courfeyrac’s door. Enjolras knocked frantically until the lock clicked, then forced himself into the house. Grantaire navigated around a very sleepy looking Courfeyrac and laid Combeferre onto the couch. The warlock snapped to turn on the lights in the house and looked towards the injured man then snapping out of his drowsy state turned to Enjolras.

“What happened?” Courfeyrac swirled his hands above Combeferre’s leg to gauge the intensity of the injury. “His leg is just broken, why is he this bad?”

“I don’t know,” Enjolras’s thoughts rushed through possibilities. “We need Joly, someone call the institute.”

“Joly slept here last night,” Musichetta emerged from the hallway in pajamas, “What is going on?”

“Go get Joly, we need a doctor now, we can talk after Combeferre gets better,” Courfeyrac was holding onto Ferre’s unconscious hands without seemed to notice. He moved one to cup the side of his face and pressed a gentle kiss on top of Combeferre head before whispering something so quietly that no one could have heard it.

Enjolras was curious as to why Joly was not at the Institute and when he had left. But that curiosity was quickly eclipsed by an acute sense of fear. His parabatai was hurt again, and this time worse than ever. He looked at Combeferre lying on the sofa with sweat running down his head. Something was happening to him and no one knew what. Enjolras was completely useless once again.

Joly rushed into the room and slid on the floor a little to check on Combeferre. He had a mini medical kit in his arms and his hands shook as he sorted through the contents. Once he found a flashlight he checked to see if Ferre’s pupils were responding as his other hand checked his pulse. Then he rustled around in the bag again.

“I think he is having a reaction to some sort of poison, but I don’t have anything for an antidote.” Joly looked worried as scanned the room, “Courfeyrac I’m going to shout out some ingredients and if you have any here for brewing things you bring them to me.”

The medic was shouting out herbs and words that Enjolras had never heard before. Courfeyrac was rushing around the room half of the time using his magic to transfer ingredients to Joly and half the time delivering them himself. The other Downworlders along with Bossuet, who apparently stayed the night as well were watching from the hallway. They were clearly confused and he knew he had to tell them what happened. He had to tell them that it was his fault. 

He tried to move himself towards the group, but his feet didn’t want to cooperate. No matter how hard he tried to figure out how to explain his reckless and idiotic ‘plan’ to go out on his own against a formidable enemy he couldn’t find any words. His heart rate sped up as he felt his parabatai bond waning and pulsing from normal to low. Suddenly a hand rested on his shoulder and Enjolras turned around. Grantaire was there looking him directly in the eyes.

“You can’t do anything right now, and this clearly isn’t a good space for you. I called the Institute and everyone will be here soon. For now you can come with me.” Grantaire led him into the depths of Courfeyrac’s apartment until they were in a room with guitars hanging on the wall. There was a piano tucked into the corner and many other instruments Enjolras had never seen before. The wonder didn’t last as his bond pulsated again. Enjolras let himself lean against the wall and sink to the ground. He rested his forehead against his knees.

“Breath, Enjolras,” Grantaire said gently, then added, “Breath slower.”

It was odd to hear his actual name formed by Grantaire’s lips. Enjolras took a deep breath and tried to slow everything down for a moment. But what good was breathing going to do? No matter what he would have to explain that he had gotten his friends captured and couldn’t even save them. While the people he had come to love looked him in the eyes, he would have to say that Montparnasse and Jehan are still in the clutches of the Patron Minette. They would all hate him and‒

The vibration of a guitar string filled the room and Enjolras looked up to see Grantaire sitting with a guitar. The strings rang out beautiful arpeggios and dissolved into a gorgeous pattern. Enjolras let his head fall back towards the wall and closed his eyes focusing on the music. He only opened them again when Grantaire began to sing.

_Imagine there's no heaven_  
_It's easy if you try_  
_No hell below us_  
_Above us only sky ___

__

__Enjolras recognized the song quickly and let himself be absorbed in the sounds. He let the melody consume him until he was possessed to play the piano along with it. Getting to the lovely grand piano was an effort, but this was something Enjolras could do. If he couldn’t help his parabatai, he could at least help make something beautiful.__

____

_Imagine all the people living life in peace, you_  
_You may say I'm a dreamer_  
_But I'm not the only one_  
_I hope some day you'll join us_  
_And the world will be as one ___

__

__

__

____The song fizzled out as footsteps came rushing down the hall and towards the music room. Enjolras was snapped out of relaxation as Musichetta opened the door. She looked at the pair and smiled a bit._ _ _ _

__

__

__

____“Combeferre is much more stable, he’s not awake, but Joly says he will wake up.” She leaned against the doorframe and yawned before continuing, “Now you better come to the living room and tell us exactly what is going on.”_ _ _ _

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____Enjolras signed and accepted his fate. He followed Musichetta into the living room, and he told his friends what he did._ _ _ _

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____***_ _ _ _

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____“So, Montparnasse and Jehan are still stuck with him?” Eponine asked looking particularly bothered by the situation._ _ _ _

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____Enjolras shamefully shook his head. “I’m so sorry. I wanted them to come with. All I ask is that you let me help you rescue them, if you all want to stop seeing me afterwards, I understand.”_ _ _ _

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____There was an obnoxious scoff and everyone turned to Grantaire, “Oh, Apollo, who would ever deny themself of your presence. No one is going to leave you.”_ _ _ _

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____“My, my, how the tables have turned,” Bahorel added as an aside to Feuilly, “Grantaire is being rational and Enjolras is being angsty.”_ _ _ _

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____“Enj, don’t worry, we’re not going anywhere.” Courfeyrac hugged him a little to tightly, but quickly released him when Combeferre began coughing from the couch. “Are you alright.” He practically threw himself on top of the injured man, and it was good he didn’t because the leg wound wouldn’t have taken to Courfeyrac’s weight very well._ _ _ _

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____“I’m fine,” Combeferre sat up a little bit, “I could hear you when you whispered. Did you mean it?” He said and Courfeyrac’s face became tinged a little red._ _ _ _

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____“...I didn’t not mean it…” Courfeyrac managed to get out before Combeferre had pulled him into a kiss. There was a chorus of “awwww” from the group. Enjolras smiled because seeing Combeferre okay, well really more than okay for the moment, was bringing back his fire. He felt the deep-seated motivation within him again._ _ _ _

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____Enjolras looked at Grantaire softly for a moment before setting himself in business mode, “Okay everyone, we need a plan.”_ _ _ _

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____If he had looked at Grantaire a second longer he might have noticed the hopeful confusion in his eyes and the slight blush dusting his cheeks._ _ _ _

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**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for continuing to read!  
> Next update on the 13th.
> 
> The song Grantaire was playing was "Imagine" by John Lennon.
> 
> (Also how about that BBC les mis trailer, right. I mean I’m still going to watch it, but Enjolras with facial hair was...interesting. We’ll just have to see.)
> 
> I almost forgot to mention... QUEEN OF AIR AND DARKNESS!!!!! Just got my hands on a copy and had to pry it from my own hands to write this chapter.


	21. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Courfeyrac's flat is very extravagant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's about damn time I posted this isn't it.

“Apollo, let the boys have their moment before we go back to depressing issues,” Grantaire was smiling as Combeferre and Courfeyrac broke apart, the former blushing furiously and the latter looking very pleased with himself.

Combeferre readjusted his glasses and Courfeyrac winked at him, “We will continue this later,” He turned to Enjolras, “What were you thinking of?”

Enjolras was wondering what would be the best way to go about saving Montparnasse and Jehan. It was clear that the rescue had to be after sunset so that Montparnasse could make a clean escape. Hopefully Jehan would still be in good health, but Enjolras feared that the Patron Minette might have hurt them. Les Amis had to be prepared for any situation thrown at them. Unfortunately he didn’t know how many Patron Minette members would be in the building when they returned. Thénardier may have prepared for them to return. Or perhaps he actually believed that Enjolras would not return for Downworlders. That idea was utterly ridiculous. Enjolras couldn’t understand how Thénardier could think like that. All he could understand was that he had to save his friends.

The group discussed rescue methods trying to get a plan together as fast as possible. It was impossible to know how Jehan and Montparnasse were being treated as time went on. Combeferre predicted that the Patron Minette would have more of the robotic demons ready to defend the hotel. Eponine reminded them that they had to wait until after sunset, which the Patron Minette would know as well. No matter what they did Thénardier would be expecting them. So perhaps they should be as predictable as possible.

“What if we split up?” Enjolras gained the group’s focus. Most of their gazes communicated that they didn’t think that was the best idea, “Some of us would go in through the front door while the others snuck in later. That way we can throw them off.”

“If we did that I’m sure the Patron Minette would see it coming.” Combeferre commented looking slightly concerned that Enjolras would even offer the obvious method.

“That’s the point. We can have a third group, just those of us who they wouldn’t know about. They’d see all us Shadowhunters and think that’s it. Bahorel, Musichetta, Courf, and Eponine can pose as Mundanes and take out any Patron Minette members discreetly. With our testimony and Montparnasse as proof of their savagery we can make a case all too convincing for the Clave to turn down and the Patron Minette will be arrested. They’ve broken so many articles of the Accords that denying their arrest would anger the majority of Idris.”

Marius raised his hand before he spoke, feeling that interrupting Enjolras would be too rude, “What about me and Gavroche?”

“Are you kidding?! I’m definitely going with you guys!” Gavroche spun around the room making fighting movements until he ran into a wall.

“You are not going to fight demons.” Eponine gave her brother a death glare then turned her gaze onto Marius, “You can babysit him.” He nodded clearly intimidated by the vampire.

“I don’t need a babysitter, Ep. I’m hardly a kid anymore.” Gavroche complained, but Eponine simply shrugged and said, “Too bad.”

 

“I for one think this plan could work,” Combeferre adjusted himself on the couch, “But I’d have to stay here, I’m not going to be any good in a fight.”

Courfeyrac pouted, “You won’t get to see my brave acts of heroism.”

“That’s the least of our worries, Courf.” Enjolras said affectionately. Then he addressed everyone, “Now I’ll divide us up into two teams. One to go in first and one to pretend to be the decoy. Feuilly, Grantaire, and I will go in first. Bossuet, Joly, and Cosette will come in after. See if you guys can sneak a stele past Claquesous and Babet once they capture us to treat any wounds we end up getting. We’ll leave at sundown. Please be ready.” Enjolras finished and his friends began to discuss weaponry and tactics in smaller groups. He was about to sit down when Feuilly appeared beside him.

“How are you, Enjolras?”

“I’m pretty confident that our plan will work, so at the moment I’m feeling okay,” Enjolras answered a little confused as to why he was being asked. There was a bigger issue at hand than how he was feeling.

“And how’s Grantaire?” Feuilly persisted looking ‘casual’ as he examined his chipped nail polish.

Enjolras looked over to Grantaire, who was laughing uncontrollably at something Bossuet said, and unconsciously smiled, “I think he’s okay as well. Why are you asking?”

“Just wondering how you felt, but now I know,” Feuilly grinned, “The question is do you know how you’re feeling.” The statement left Enjolras mostly confused. Feuilly tended to be more to the point, not so mysterious. Perhaps it had something to do with Grantaire.

***

There was time before he had to leave, so Enjolras wandered around Courfeyrac’s flat. He hadn’t had a chance to do so before and was very impressed. There were tons of catchkeys from all over the world decorating evey shelf, well every flat surface really. Picture frames showed him and Marius at various tourist locations in New York as well as some more abstract prints of Courfeyrac himself modeling outfits in Central Park. He moved along the hall until the largest picture on the wall caught his attention. It was a beautiful portrait of all the New Yorkers outside the institute, save Marius, who must’ve taken the picture. Grantaire was laying dramatically across the ground. His smile was clearly real and he looked on the verge of laughing. It was a very nice picture.

Every door had a sign that described what to be expecting inside. The room labeled “Courf’s Collection” was a walk in closet bigger than the living room. Another was called the “Café de Courf” which was the kitchen. He ended up opening the doors to some of his friend’s rooms on accident. Marius’s was decorated with maps and artsy photography. Eponine’s was dark and had band posters along the walls. Courfeyrac had designed the rooms specifically for them. He stopped abruptly when he saw a door labeled, “E’s Guest Sweet”. He tentatively opened the door. The room was wonderful. There was a bed with obnoxious French flag bed sheets. There was a desk with a cup of pencils with cheesy phrases all over them. Three prints of past revolutionary leaders quotes were lined up above the bed. Courfeyrac had made a place for him. Enjolras made a note to thank his friend after everything was done.

The sheer amount of doors Enjolras had opened was clearly impossible compared to the exterior of the house. There must be some sort of bigger on the inside spell on it. Enjolras eventually found a small room filled with spare weapons and gear. The sign had read “Stabby Things”. He picked up a throwing knife and flung it towards a target on the back wall. The knife apparently never evaded the glittery outside of the room as a puff of sparkles fell from it when it hit the bullseye. He had his focus and his logic back to their usual levels now.

The sun was beginning to set as Enjolras dressed in the gear and grabbed two seraph blades. It was better to have an extra for Jehan to use later if they were still in fighting condition. He joined Feuilly and Grantaire by the door.

“Break a leg, guys. And don’t go getting all bruised up.” Bahorel punched Feuilly in the shoulder fondly.

“Wasn’t planning on that until later tonight,” Feuilly simpered and Marius looked mildly horrified. “What? We’re going to go boxing, completely innocent. Get your mind out of the gutter Marius.”

Courfeyrac couldn’t resist adding, “Whatever you say. It’s not like we have lived in the same thin-walled hallway as you two for weeks now.”

“Can we please get back to saving our friends, now?” Marius pleaded.

“Marius is right. Grantaire, Feuilly let’s head out. Wait fifteen minutes before each sequential group leaves. Let’s get our friends back and stop the Patron Minette.” Enjolras stepped outside and his team followed.

“Don’t actually break a leg!” Joly said frantically as the doors swung shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm all good now and it's festive season. Time to break out the fuzzy socks and sip hot cocoa and pretend I don't have any work to do during my break! 
> 
> If I don't update on December 27th you can send a rabid badger after me. There is literally no reason I can't finish another chapter this upcoming week.
> 
> Have a Merry Christmas if that's a thing you do. If not just have a good week in general.  
> Bye


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Some fighting happens, the usual stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> An update from me? On an actual Thursday!? How rare!

Enjolras poked his head around a wall to peek at Thenardier’s inn. Feuilly followed suit and scanned the area. There were ten animatronic demons waiting for their arrival. Based upon the lack of reaction from the Mundanes the monsters were glamoured, a smart move on behalf of the Patron Minette. If the Mundane police were to get involved there was no telling what would happen. 

“We need to put on glamours this time,” Feuilly said, “And we have to protect any Mundanes that might get in the way.”

“You’re right,” Enjolras grabbed his stele to draw the runes for his friends, “We should also redraw our stealth and strength runes. Even if we are just the primary distraction we should try to take down as many of the ‘demons’ as possible. That way the others will get by the perimeter faster.”

“Okay, Apollo, good to see you with your head on straight, again,” Grantaire held out his arm for Enjolras to draw a rune. Feuilly muttered something that sounded suspiciously like, “I wouldn’t describe anything about Enj as straight.”

Once they finished drawing runes the three stepped into the street and marched towards the robotic demons. There was no real plan as to how they would fight, so each one of them charged a different enemy. Enjolras called his seraph blade to action and began to slash away at the repurposed demon flesh. Since it was a mechanical opponent, the points to strike were different. He had to figure out where the main gears or circuits were and hit them. If he could jam the movement of the animatron he could easily defeat it. 

The beast swung a metal arm at Enjolras that knocked him to the ground. He coughed trying to bring air back into his lungs as he felt a sting around his ribs. He sticked the demon in the side and successfully tore a hole large enough to peer inside and see the circuitry. There was a blue and silver board that seemed to be the basis of all the wires leading to the motors. That’s where he had to strike. 

“Apollo, watch out!” Grantaire shouted, a little too late, as Enjolras was picked up from behind by another demon and thrown against a nearby building. He heard a crack and the stinging his his ribs was replaced by an aching pain. He scrambled to reach his belt for another sword since his last one landed too far from his body. Two demons were advancing on him. He called out “Ramiel” and his blade glowed as he sunk it into the closer demon’s side opening a cut the same as the last time. He sliced through the circuit board and the demon sufficed to take one last shaky step before collapsing. Before he could get to the second demon a blade was pressed against his throat. 

“Not another step,” Claquesous said into his ear, “It was idiotic to come back here.”

Enjolras looked his his sides to see his friends in similar situations with others who must be part of the Patron Minette. It was just as he suspected, they had called in reinforcements. Grantaire waved at Claqueous the best he could with his hands were tied behind his back.

“Hey, you! It’s good to see you again. Still a self-righteous prick, I see.” Grantaire taunted.

“And I see you’re still a blind fool following an incompetent leader,” This made Grantaire’s espression grow somber. “Let’s bring them up to the attic,” Claquesous ordered.

***

This time Enjolras was thrown in the larger cage with Feuilly and Grantaire. The windows were covered and there were no lights so they were shut into darkness. Now all they could do was wait for the next group. Enjolras sat down and felt his ribs ache. He must have broken some if them. His iratze hd been taken so he did his best to keep himself in a comfortable position.

“Please tell me you have a better plan that last time,” Montparnasse’s voice echoed in the dark.

“Parnasse, be happy that they’re here.” Jehan’s voice was close, so he must be in the same cage.

“Good, you two are alive,” Enjolras said his voice trying to mask his pain. The others were hurt far worse and he could handle it.

“Did Thenardier hurt you when we weren’t here?” Feuilly asked the practical question. 

“Not me, but Jehan…” Montparnasse kept his voice even.

“Oh, it’s not too bad,” Jehan’s words were quiet, “I just got a bit bruised up. I might have a concussion. I can’t tell. I can stand and besides I’m more concerned about Montparnasse’s hand.”

“There’s no need to be concerned for something that doesn’t exist.” Montparnasse said trying to hold up his reign of sarcasm.

“Once we get you out of here Combeferre and Joly can take care of our injuries. In the meantime—“ Feuilly was cut off by the door opening.

“You lot never cease to talk. If you could live to shut up for a few minutes I’d like to have a conversation with you.” Claquesous entered the room. 

“Oh so sorry that we’re interfering with your evil plan. Please give your class I villain monologue,” Grantaire was probably smirking, but Enjolras couldn’t see him. There was a loud crack and Grantaire groaned. “Ow, dude that really hurt.”

“By the angel will you ever shut up?” Claquesous yelled with a growl in his voice, “I came here to tell you your last options. It is ridiculously clear that you are supposed to be some sort of decoy, so know that we are expecting more of you to show up. But that isn’t really a worry. You only defeated one of our animatronic demons. You’re friends will be greeted by nine ravaging beasts and undoubtedly will be captured as well. If you stop trying to oppose us you can walk out of here with all of your lives. If not you are in our way and you know what we do to those in our way.”

“Apparently scold and monologue to.” Grantaire, even after being hit, was not backing down from his petty pestering. Enjolras instinctively moved towards his voice. Grantaire was going to get himself in more trouble than they needed. 

“That’s it!” Light flickered throughout the room. Claquesous opened the cage and dragged Grantaire out by the collar of his shirt before anyone could make a move to escape. “For your utter lack of respect you’ll have to come downstairs. You won’t be laughing anymore. Just ask your faerie pet.”

Enjolras looked across the cage to Jehan who was slouched against the bars of the cage. Their face was bloody and bruised purple welts covered their arms. Claquesous was going to do the same to Grantaire. Enjolras felt his entire body fill with rage. If he laid a hand on Grantaire he would kill him in an instant.

“You don’t have to hurt us. Nothing you do will change any of our minds,” Feuilly said standing as close to Claquesous as the cage would allow.

“Oh you’d be surprised as to what a little persuasion can do,” Claquesous smiled devilishly. 

“Let him go,” Enjolras said forcing the breath out of his heaving chest to make his words have the weight they deserved. “Change my mind not his. I’m the one you want.”

Claquesous looked amused, “Now what do we have here? If I’m not mistaken I’d say you have feelings for this mess. I wonder what you would do if I did something like this…” He hit Grantaire over the head hard enough to draw blood.

“Stop.” Enjolras demanded. This time he slammed Grantaire‘ head against the cage and kneed him in the stomach. “I’m going to bring you to justice and you are going to suffer in Alicante’s prisons.”

“We’ll see about that.” Claquesous turned quickly as the noise of battle began outside. “Looks like your friends have arrived. I’ll be back.”

He threw Grantaire back in the cage and stormed out the door, locking it behind him. Enjolras scotched towards Grantaire and asked, “Are you okay?” 

Grantaire looked up at him with his blue eyes and slightly bloody dark curls, “I’m always okay, Apollo.”

Enjolras felt a surge of something run through him. It was warm and new and led his hand towards Grantaire’s. He squeezed it gently and the skeptic smiled at him, “It’s going to be fine, Apollo, I’ve had worse.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay another chapter. I'm thinking of doing 25, but these are pretty short so maybe 28 chapters. 
> 
> Next update on January 3rd (2019! Happy New Year!)


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So they're still at the inn and stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And it's a finished chapter.

Enjolras was not sure what force made him decide to grab Grantaire’s hand, but he wasn’t really regretting it. The other man’s tension had released at the touch. Hearing Grantaire’s strained breathing made him notice the dark anger that lingered inside him. How dare Claquesous try to hurt Grantaire. There was something about his bloody face that had made Enjolras so desperate to help him. Claquesous would return to torture Grantaire again. It was so stupid to show such a distinct weakness to his enemy. But since when was Grantaire his weakness? He never felt so much of a lust for vengeance than he did then. It was worse than when Combeferre was taken. What made Grantaire so different? A monumental thought descended upon Enjolras that made his eyes grow wide and his heart beat fast. That couldn’t be it… could it?

Either way it was not the time to consider such things. He brought his attention back to the present and realized that his friends had been talking. They were discussing cafés in the city. They were trying to distract themselves from the unfortunate situation of being locked in cages.

“The Musain has a certain charm to it. Like it has a real history,” Feuilly argued.

“That’s so mainstream,” Montparnasse commented.

“The Corinthe!” Grantaire shouted, “I made my way down there with Jollly, Boss, and Chetta. They had some sort of cinnamon drink that was perfect. Now that’s a place we can all praise. What do you think, Apollo?”

“Oh. Well I’d have to say I favor the Musain. They have a little back room where I can do research, but the Corinthe is a close second,” Enjolras decided as the door swung open and the Patron Minette guards marched in Cosette, Joly, and Bossuet.

“Are you talking about the Corinthe?” Joly looked confused and amused that his friends were discussing cafés while in imprisonment.

Before anyone could answer a guard shushed them and pushed the new captives into the cage. Bossuet managed to hit his head on the bars three times on the way in. It was now considerably crowded. If Musichetta, Eponine, Bahorel, and Courfeyrac didn’t succeed in rescuing them, the cramped cage would be sufficient torture. Which reminded Enjolras that Claquesous could walk in the room to hurt his friends at any minute. He hoped the others would rescue all of them before anything bad could happen.

Once the guards exited the room conversation resumed, although this time less focused on where to find the best latté.

“How many robot demons did you guys gank?” Grantaire asked.

Montparnasse groaned, “Don’t say the word ‘gank’. It’s such an uncouth word. If I have to suffer your presence at least use better wording.”

“You can shut your mouth, mister. We are the one’s rescuing you,” Cosette scolded, and surprising received no scathing remark. “We got rid of three robots because Joly brought an electro-thing that overloaded their systems, but they caught us pretty fast. I think the plan is working, Enjolras.”

“They got three! Damn. Apollo, Feuilly, we need to step up our game,” Grantaire’s laugh was cut shortt by a cringe of pain. Joly seemed to have some sort of fervor come over him as he knelt down to check for a concussion. He took a moment to scan over the others and frowned.

“When I said don’t break a leg I didn’t mean go ahead and break everything else,” Then he smiled a little and produced a stele from the lining of his shoe, “I hid another in secret pocket. I’ll draw you iratzes if the wounds are clean, but tell me if you hear someone coming so I can hide the stele. As for you Montparnasse,” He called to the other cage, “How is your arm?”

“Not great, but I can manage There isn’t anything you could do anyways.”

“Must you say everything in such a tone?” Cosette asked and Jehan laughed.

“We’re keeping Cosette around you more often, Parnasse. She is amazing.” The simple sound of Jehan being cheerful was enough to lighten the mood of the whole room. Montparnasse huffed in an almost affectionate way.

***

The light spirits diminished quickly when Thenardier entered. He was just as serpentine as the last time Enjolras had seen him. He was carrying a tray that had a syringe filled with a red liquid. Enjolras would label the substance as rather volatile because Thenardier picked it up very carefully. At least it wasn’t Claquesous; Grantaire should be safe for the moment. If anything it was his own turn to be tortured. His friends had suffered enough.

“I see that you’re all here now,” Thenardier smiled, “I don’t know what you were thinking. Using a decoy and all was so predictable. And now we have more leverage over Monsieur Enjolras. I see that your friend hasn’t returned. I wonder how he’s doing.”

Enjolras knew this game. Thenardier was just trying to get in his head. Bringing up Combeferre was a low blow and this time he was going to control himself. He was a stronger person than any of the Patron Minette. Making the world a more tolerant and accepting place was a mission worth facing villains.

“What exactly are you going to do?” Enjolras asked defiantly.

“Oh, I’m just going to have a conversation with you,” Thenardier stuck his hand through the bars and grabbed Enjolras arm to inject him with the syringe. Enjolras tried to struggle away, but it was too late. The world started to swirl almost immediately. 

“What the hell was that?” Grantaire was yelling and trying to reach thenardier through the bars. It very manic and he turned to Enjolras. His face was blurry and it was hard to focus on Grantaire concern-ridden eyes. “Hey, Apollo, are you okay?”

“Mmm okay,” Enjolras tried to speak, but his words were slurred. 

“I would disagree. In about twenty minutes your body won’t be able to handle the drug anymore and it will give out. Or I can give you an antidote. You simply must vow to give up your fight for downworld right and swear to never say a word about our organization to the Clave. If you don’t you will die a slow and painful death. And, of course, after that I will kill your friends and tell the tale of how the died valiantly fighting a horrible Downworld uprising.” Thenardier’s voice was shrill in Enjolras’s ears and made his head ring.

“Why are you hurting him? We all fight for Downworlders!” Feuilly asked gripping the bars of the cage to contain his distress.

Thenardier leaned against the wall and laughed, “None of you are as influential as Enjolras Herondale. Shadowhunter children look up to him. Even the Clave likes him, although not so much his revolutionary spirit. If he does something others will follow, which is our gain. But if he stays stubborn and dies we won’t be able to use his charisma, but neither will he. Either way the Patron Minette will win.”

Enjolras lost his ability to sit upright and fell into Grantaire’s arms. His hearing started to go in and out of function. He saw a blur that resembled Joly hovering over him. Then the pain started to spread throughout his body. Each of his limbs began to burn and he kicked at the floor and felt hot tears on his cheeks. Nothing could stop the horrible sensations running through his muscles.

A loud crash made the whole room shake and Enjolras felt a sharp bolt of pain in his head. Orange light started to invade his vision as the room erupted into chaos. He was shifted onto someone else’s lap and clanging metal rang in his ears. He could make out voices demanding the antidote. He heard screaming and eventually felt a needle sink into his arm. 

Slowly the world came back into view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look, it's basically Saturday. 
> 
> Chapter 24 on January 10th, for Chapter 25 I might take two weeks because I have a lot to wrap up.
> 
> (PS. I was pleasantly surprised by BBC les mis. But I'm still skeptical....)  
> (PPS. I got a tumblr and have 0 followers lol. It's aberrantangel.tumblr.com if you care.)


	24. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A heap of people's names. They're all everywhere all the time and it's just a mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Second to last chapter!!!!!!!!! AH!!!!! How did I even get here?

“Apollo,” Grantaire was helping Enjolras off the ground and guiding him outside.

“What’s going on?” Enjolras asked feeling an ache in his head.

“Chetta, Courf, Bahorel, and Eponine made a really dramatic entrance at a ridiculously perfect time. Courfeyrac used his magic so we could all escape and Chetta and Ep took care of any threats. You got your antidote and now we have to get back to Courfeyrac’s flat. Then we can go to the Clave and finish all of this,” Grantaire explained as they made it to the dark street. 

Courfeyrac was standing in front of the building creating a wall of orange light that was keeping them safe from the animatronic demons. He looked incredibly focused and it was best that everyone cleared the area as fast as possible. Enjolras glanced around to ensure that all of Les Amis had made it out alive. Everyone seemed to be in good shape as they were full out sprinting down the road besides the Downworlders that were holding off the Patron Minette.

Before he could react Claquesous appeared beside him and Grantaire looking absolutely infuriated as he pulled out his seraph blade. Enjolras’s hands felt for a weapon as his belt, but he didn’t have anything with him. Grantaire had his blade and blocked Claquesous from striking Enjolras. It seemed that Claquesous had not given up on hurting Grantaire, and Enjolras moved towards them but stumbled over his own feet. He still couldn’t quite think clearly. 

“Hey asshole! Take this!” A voice called as Claquesous fell to the ground revealing Gavroche with a brick in his hand. “Have a good nap.”

“Why in hell are you here? Your sister is going to murder you and then Marius and Combeferre for not keeping an eye on you,” Grantaire said instead of thank you. He went to Enjolras and went back to helping him stay upright.

“Your damn well right about that!” Eponine finished off the robot she was fighting with a fatal hit to its central processor. She picked Gavroche right off his feet and shouted to Bahorel, Courfeyrac, and Musichetta, “I’m taking my brother back to the flat. Good luck to you three,” Eponine moved swiftly with her Vampiric powers. 

Enjolras was still dizzy, but he needed to leave so he let go of Grantaire and started to move as quickly as his blurred senses would allow. Soon enough they were several blocks away from the inn. He was concerned about Courfeyrac, Bahorel, and Musichetta, but they had already defeated the robots when they left. It paid to have a Downworlder of magical inclination on your side.

“You just got drugged! Why are you running?” Joly exclaimed as the pair caught up. “You’re going to trip and crack your head open!”

“It’s okay, Joly,” Enjolras smiled, “We did it. That gives me all the strength I need.”

“What does that even mean? It doesn’t sound very medical,” Grantaire seemed eager to tease even when they were running for their lives.

“Exactly!” Joly agreed enthusiastically. But Enjolras truly felt strong. All he had to to was go to the Clave and present the indisputable evidence that the Patron Minette broke the Accords. Even a corrupt government couldn’t ignore such blatant transgressions. He succeeded.

Once the three of them arrived at the apartment all of Les Amis were there besides Courfeyrac, Bahorel, and Musichetta. Jehan and Montparnasse had moved to the corner and were bandaging each others wounds. It seemed that the stone-faced vampire was smiling. Feuilly was on the couch by Combeferre telling him exactly what had happened down to very specific details. Enjolras collapsed into one of the armchairs and his head began to spin again. Grantaire told him to sit still while he grabbed some water. Enjolras’s attention was quickly drawn by Marius who began talking a mile a minute.

“Eponine, please stop staring at me like that! I had your brother with me at all times. We were playing board games and Combeferre was reading! I was trying to take good care of him so when he asked for a glass of milk I couldn’t refuse so I went to the kitchen. When I got back he was gone and I looked everywhere, I swear!” Marius looked genuinely scared. 

“I’m sure your were a great babysitter, Marius,” Cosette said from next to him as she smoothly interlocked their hands.

“It’s true, and come on Ponine, I saved R’s life back there!” Gavroche was staring at a phone in his lap. Eponine snatched away the device.

“Shush, Gav, you’re still grounded for a month,” She tossed the phone at Enjolras who fumbled to catch the unexpected object and placed it on his armrest.

Suddenly the door flew open and Courfeyrac, Bahorel, and Musichetta entered slamming the entrance shut behind them. Courfeyrac put up his wards with a quick spell and turned to smile at the room.

“Why hello everyone!” No no, there’s no need to applause I’m just your average amazing hero!” He marched towards the couch and squised himself between Combeferre and Feuilly. “And hello, Combeferre.” He kissed his boyfriend.

“Oh Chetta, by the angel I was worried! Are you okay?” Joly and Bossuet ran up to meet her by the door.

“I’m just fine, boys,” She kissed both of their cheeks and pulled them into a hug. “You two are more beat up then me? Boss, what happened to your head?” Bossuet laughed as he told her how his injuries were more a product of his bad luck than any intention. Enjolras had heard of polyamorous relationships before and it seemed that this was going to be the best of all of them. Bahorel was wiggling his eyebrows at Feuilly, who left the couch to playfully punch him in the arm.

“Good to have you back, dumbass .” Feuilly hooked an arm around Bahorel.

“You too, Gingerbread.” Bahorel teased and pulled Feuilly into a full hug. Enjolras smiled as he looked at his friends’ happiness. They all seemed to have clicked together perfectly.

He started to wonder just how long it would take to get a glass of water because Grantaire had yet to return from the kitchen. Enjolras got up and wandered the house until he found the kitchen, and therefore Grantaire. As he peered into the room Grantaire was sitting at a table taking care of his cuts and other injuries, which was a ridiculous thing to do on your own. He stepped fully into the room and Grantaire looked up at him.

“Shit the water. My face started bleeding again and I completely forgot.”

“Who cares about the water, let me help,” Enjolras pulled a chair in front of Grantaire and started to clean of the gash on the other man’s forehead. He was so immersed in fixing the wound that he hadn’t noticed how close their faces were until it was completely patched up. They made eye contact and Enjolras’s heart began to beat faster than it had in any battle. His gaze dripped down towards Grantaire’s mouth causing him to move back into his own personal space because…

Shit.

He might be in love with Grantaire. No, it couldn’t be love, not yet. It was only a few weeks, but perhaps love at first sight was real. Well, when he first saw Grantaire love wasn’t really what he thought of. Enjolras had never even considered dating or more-than-friendly relationships before. Where on earth was any of this coming from? Maybe he thouht that Grantaire had nice hair and pretty eyes and was immensely talented and had a good sense of humor and how nice it was to talk to him on the roof… Enjolras stopped himself from thinking of all the little things he’d come to appreciate about Grantaire. Shit.

“Are you okay there, Apollo?” Grantaire said and Enjolras snaped his head back up.

“....Yeah, it must be the drug from earlier. It hasn’t worn off just yet… I should go to the institute to sleep.” Enjolras started to get up.

“What about your water?” Grantaire asked looking very confused because Enjolras appeared to have stopped experiencing side effects from the drug while he was treating Grantaire's cut.

“I prefer the water at the Institute…” He said awkwardly and speed walked out of the room and towards the front door.

Bahorel blocked his path, “It’s the man of the hour! What’s the plan for tomorrow, Enjolras?” 

“Oh, yes. Let’s all get some sleep then at noon we’ll see the Clave. Montparnasse should be ready to testify that the Patron Minette broke the accords. And Courf be ready for a portal,” Enjolras scanned his brain for any further details, but found none. As Grantaire made his way into the living room he excused himself, “That’s all for now. I’m going to go sleep at the Institute. See you at noon.”

After he had completely calmly excited he full on sprinted to the Institute, up the stairs, and flopped onto his bed. The only thing he could think about was how close he was to kissing Grantaire and how much he wanted to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah I'm going to need two weeks on the last chapter because I haven't started it...
> 
> It will all be wrapped up in a kind of dumb and completely cliche bow on January 24th!
> 
> (But maybe not even January 24th as I've just realized that I have and exam that day...worst case it will be another Saturday thing)  
> (BBC Les Mis Episode Two Opinions: Wait, what happened to the accuracy? Little Marius should be protected at all costs.)


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Holy hell it all comes together and stuff.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Editing? I don't know her. Thank you all so much for reading I mean this was my first fic it's over 40,000 and I've got comments and kudos!

It wasn’t long before Combeferre showed up at Enjolras’s door. Letting him in risked questions that Enjolras wasn’t sure he wanted to face. But it was his parabatai and either way he would feel some semblance of what Enjolras was. There was really no point in hiding.

“Come in Ferre,” Enjolras didn’t get up to open the door because he was to dedicated to stretching out on the bed and wallowing. 

“Enjolras, what on earth are you doing?” Combeferre asked and shook his head, “Courf come in here.” The mentioned warlock strutted into the room and laughed at the sight of Enjolras.

“What’s wrong, Enj? Did something happen when you and R mysteriously disappeared from the room?” Courfeyrac sprawled across the bed and forced Enjolras to the very edge.

“Why did you bring him?” Enjolras complained to his parabatai.

“Because he’s my boyfriends and your best friend.” Combeferre sat down at Enjolras’s desk, “And he knows Grantaire better than I do.”

“Who said anything about Grantaire?” Enjolras tried to move the warlock over to no avail.

Courfeyrac kicked him and said, “Your body language and actions have said it all, my little lovestruck Shadowhunter.” Before Enjolras could protest he continued, “Don’t you even try to deny it! You two better sort your shit out before he goes back to New York.”

“Why do you say that?” Enjolras sat up and looked at Courfeyrac inquisitively.

“R, well, he doesn’t like to believe that he would be missed by those he cares about.” Courfeyrac explained, “And he clearly cares about you, but once he’s back home he probably would avoid visiting you.” 

Enjolras remembered when he first met Grantaire. He remembered how his friends had spoken about getting over something, how concerned they had been about Grantaire throwing around his life, how he hadn’t even brought a stele to heal any injuries.

“Did Grantaire ever… I mean was Grantaire…” Enjolras trailed off.

“That’s not for me to tell.” Courfeyrac said, “But he’s been a lot better since we’ve been in Paris, since he met you. I might even say he’s been making an effort to impress you.”

“Oh.” Enjolras considered what that could mean. Grantaire could simply just look up to him. He probably didn’t reciprocate the romantic feelings Enjolras was coming to terms with. 

“I don’t want him to get the wrong idea from you and end up falling further into his bad habits than before. You better ask that cynical boy out before he’s gone forever.” Courfeyrac got up and sat on Combeferre’s lap.

“But what if he doesn’t feel the same way?” Enjolras layed down again at the despairing thought.

“Goddammit Enjolras. Ferre, please save me from the oblivious idiot.”

Combeferre sighed, “ Just talk to Grantaire before you meet with the Clave, okay?” Enjolras nodded in response.

“Ah, lovely job. Ferre, the romance doctor, my boyfriend,” Courfeyrac exclaimed and kissed Combeferre intensely.

“Are you two going to be like this forever now?” Enjolras averted his eyes.

“Oh don’t you worry, Enj, you’ll be just like us soon enough,” Courfeyrac winked.

“We’ll see about that… But Combeferre, you literally have your own room, and Courfeyrac, you have a whole apartment. Please take your PDA to one of those places.”

“It would be a public display of affection then, but as you wish Enj. Just remember you said you would talk to Grantaire.” Courfeyrac got up and pulled Combeferre with him, “If I find out that was a lie I will show up at your door with 7 vats of glue and a whole metric ton of sparkles.”

“Good luck, Enjolras,” Combeferre said as he closed the door behind him.

Combeferre would never lead him astray. So perhaps Grantaire did have feelings for him. Or maybe Ferre wanted him to talk to Grantaire so that he wouldn’t be the one to let Enjolras down. There was really only one way to find out. But that was the scary way. Was the combationation of Courf, glue, and glitter more terrifying or was talking to Grantaire? Enjolras weighed the possibilities and sighed. He got off his bed and stepped outside his room.

He then remembered that he had no clue where Grantaire went. Enjolras had suggested that everyone should get some sleep, so he checked the guest rooms, but no one was there. Maybe he stayed at Courfeyrac’s flat. He texted Eponine who simply responded with “He went to the institute ;)”. He didn’t read too much in to the winking face.

After searching the library and the training rooms, Enjolras peered into the kitchen. It smelled really good, but was otherwise empty. There were dished stacked by the sink, so Grantaire must have cooked something and gone somewhere else to eat it. It had to the roof. Enjolras felt dumb for not realizing that sooner.

The spiral staircase he has known for years was suddenly intimidating. He grew more and more nervous with each step towards Grantaire. By the time he stepped onto the roof he was convinced that he was about to be tragically rejected and heavily embarrassed.

Grantaire was sitting with his back towards Enjolras and a plate of cookies next to him. He looked really peaceful and pensive. It would be a shame to disturb him… No, he was already on the roof and he was going to march up to the man in front of him and talk.

“Um hi,” Enjolras found himself saying.

Grantaire turned and smirked, “I hope you have a better introduction than that planned for the Clave.”

“Very funny,” Enjolras rolled his eyes instinctively, but he was smiling, “Mind if I join you?”

“You already know the answer to that don’t you?” Grantaire pushed to cookies behind him so Enjolras could sit next to him.

“Right, it’s my roof,” Enjolras thought about the first time they had sat together and hoped this time would end a little different. “We’ve been up all night you should really get some rest,” He found himself saying. The dark circles under the skeptic’s eyes were something Enjolras knew too well.

“You’re one to talk. You have a meeting with the Clave in a few hours.” Grantaire scoffed.

“Yes, but I’ve just had a lot on mind my lately,” Enjolras met the other man’s gaze, “Actually it’s been you that’s on my mind.” Grantaire looked away from him.

“Don’t you worry, Apollo. I’ll be back in New York and out of your shiny hair in no time,” he said with a bitter smirk.

“That’s not what I meant…” Enjolras was about to explain, but his nerves kept him from a confession. He had to fill the silence with something so he asked, “Stop me if I’m intruding, but how did you end up in New York. It’s just, you drink a lot and you are pretty reckless with your life…”

“It’s not intruding. I just don’t want you to think of me as less than you already do.” Grantaire stared down towards the rooftops. Enjolras took a deep breath and gently moved Grantaire’s head to face him. He left his hand on the man’s cheek for a beat too long then quickly dropped it away.

“I don’t think of you as lesser now and I won’t think of you as lesser if you choose to tell me about your past.” He said it with such honest intensity that Grantaire was clearly taken by surprise. His eyes were wide and his mouth was ever so slightly open from the shock.

“Right, well, it’s a sob story. My mom died when I was really little, but I remember all of it. She was really kind, nurturing, and all that. She actually died from a Mundane disease,” Grantaire paused his sad eyes betraying the nonchalant expression on his face, “She was de-runed and excommunicated because she went to Mundane hospitals for treatment. She had cancer and we don’t have any Shadowhunter resources to treat it. She fought so hard everyday until her last breath.”

“I’m sorry,” Enjolras felt horrible for asking. His parents were not great people, but at least they were alive.

“No need to apologize, it isn’t your fault. That’s not even it,” Grantaire laughed coldly. It sent a shiver down Enjolras’s spine to see the usual hearty and loving laugh twisted into agony. “My dad hates me, even before my mom died he did. I’m a disappointment to him and that started to get to me. By the angel, it took years with my friends to actually believe I’m not worthless to everyone and I still have doubts. My dad would never cease to tell me I was an idiot. I’m not great with technical work. I went to the academy in Idris for a year, but I was failing my classes. School just isn't my thing, I guess. Then he sent me to the Institute because he couldn’t bare to see me anymore and wanted me to feel alone. Little did he know that the New York Institute was the very best place for me. Javert, even in all his strictness, is a great teacher. I actually learnt from him and even when I was a jerk he was there. And my friends confused me so much at first. I was dumbfounded that they liked me. My dad really fucked me up, so I guess I drink because I’m the son of a dead woman and a top-notch asshole.”

Enjolras saw Grantaire’s hands fidgeting and decided to take them in his own, “Good think you’ve grown up nothing like him.” The words seemed to wash over Grantaire and make him relax. He looked from their joint hands to Enjolras’s eyes.

“This is really your last chance to get some sleep,” the cynic said not looking away.

“I think I’d rather stay here, besides I’m used to it,” Enjolras leaned forward until they were only a few centimeters apart.

“Hey, Apollo,” Grantaire said carefully, “Are you in some sort of sleep deprived delirium right now?”

“I’ve never been more awake,” Enjolras said, then cringed, “By the angel that was cheesy.” Enjolras was mid-regretting-his-life-choices when Grantaire closed the gap between them for brief moment. His worried eyes begged an answer to the question, ‘is this okay’. Enjolras’s heart was racing and he was in state where words were simply not going to happen, so he kissed Grantaire again, this time more intensely. Everything seemed to sing and burst like fireworks as he ran his hands through dark curls and felt arms at his waist. They parted, smiling like idiots.

“About going back to New York, I was thinking you could stay here for a bit--”

Grantaire cut him off, “I’m definitely staying for longer, Apollo, obviously.” Then he pulled him into yet another kiss, the one sweet and and holding the promise of many more to come.

“Hey, Grantaire,” Enjolras said, suddenly serious.

“Yeah,” Grantaire looked scared that Enjolras might snap out of some stupor and take it all back. 

“Will you be my boyfriend?”

A flood of relief filled Grantaire’s body and he laughed, “Yes, you idiot. Kissing you is a definite yes to that statement.”

Enjolras was going to reply but there was a squeal of delight from behind them. Unfortunately there was only one person who if could be, “Courfeyrac. I hate you. How long have you been standing there?”

Courfeyrac took the words as an invitation to cross the roof towards them, “Not super long, and I know you could never hate me. I’m just so happy for you two, and now Feuilly owes me money! I knew it would be today!”

“What the hell, Courf, you placed bets on this?” Grantaire said, but he sounded entertained. Enjolras was more shocked that Feuilly of all people had participated. Was it really that obvious from the start?

“Yup, since the crepes,” Courfeyrac grabbed their arms and pulled them to stand, “Oh look cookies!” He scooped up the plate and munched on one while he spoke, “We have to go back to my place for the portal because Montparnasse can’t come here. And I have some moola to collect from several salty losers.”

“You couldn’t have waited? We still have awhile.” Enjolras asked raising his eyebrows.

“Of course not! I didn’t know how far you two were gonna go! I had to make sure you got to the meeting on time!” Courfeyrac winked and Enjolras’s face felt very warm, “You look like a tomato Enj, darling. Now let’s get going I need you two as proof of my victory!”

***

Everyone was waiting at Courfeyrac’s flat when they arrived. On the walk over Enjolras had taken Grantaire’s hand and smiled. Everything was clicking into place. All that was left was to report the crimes of the Patron Minette to the Clave. Well, first he had to deal with his obnoxious friends.

As soon as Courf walked through his door he yelled, “I knew it! Hand over your money losers! The pining idiots are no more, make way for Shadowhunter boyfriends!”

“Wait, when did this happen? Are you two sure you weren’t dating yesterday?” Feuilly asked.

“Damn it! You guys couldn’t have waited a day?” Bahorel exclaimed begrudgingly handing over twenty dollars to Courfeyrac.

“Oh, shush you two!” Cosette hurried over to hug the new couple, “I’m so happy that you guys finally spoke with each other.”

“Communication is key,” Jehan added from where they were braiding flowers into their hair.

After being barraged with questions for long enough Enjolras cleared his throat, “Can we please get going? I don’t want to be late.”

Courfeyrac sighed dramatically, “Oh, darling let us have our excitement. But fine,” He swirled his hand around until the portal on his wall formed. “I’ll come with so I can open a portal back. Let’s get going Montparnasse,” He instructed although the vampire was already halfway through the gateway. Enjolras followed to end up on the stairs to the Clave hall.

“Are you ready?” Enjolras asked mostly to himself.

“Of course I’m ready,” Montparnasse answered flatly, “These bastards deserve to be thrown back to the dirt.”

“What a lovely sentiment,” Courfeyrac smiled and jumped down the stairs and tossed a little glass jar towards Enjolras, “I’m going to go shopping, open the jar when we’re leaving and I’ll meet up with you.”

Enjolras placed the jar in his pocket and looked up to the large double doors. If this didn’t work his friends would be banned from seeing each other and tensions between Downworlders and Shadowhunters would tighten once again. If he succeeded, this could be a huge marker in the equality of all species. So that meant he would simply have to succeed.

“If you are done staring at the doors, can we please get this over with,” Montparnasse said and Enjolras glared at him, “What? I do have a clan to manage. My schedule is very crowded.”

“Right.” Enjolras said although he didn’t really know what being a clan leader entailed. Perhaps he could start a program that teaches Shadowhunters about Downworlder culture. “Let’s do this.”

He marched into the waiting room and the receptionist already knew he was, “Mister Herondale, the Clave had been expecting you. They seem to be bursting to speak with you… why is this vampire here?”

“Evidence,” was all Enjolras said before pulling Montparnasse into the hall. It was an intimidating room, but he had never met a place he could not own. “Hello, members of the Clave of Idris.”

Valjean smiled at him, “Enjolras it is good to see you again.”

“Good to see him?! The situation is Paris is outrageous! Demons were roaming the streets in plain sight. It was rumored that the Downworlders were dealing with them to take over the city! And look he’s brought one of the with him! Mister Herondale you better have brought him in to be arrested!” The same spindly and bad tempered man from before practically screamed.

“On the contrary,” Enjolras responded, “This man, Montparnasse, is here to testify against a radical group of Shadowhunters called the Patron Minette, who have broken the Accords countless times. The rumors you speak of are just that; only false stories spread by the organization themself to turn Shadowhunters against Downworlders. This can be confirmed by placing Monsieur Thénardier or Monsieur Claquesous under trial with the mortal sword. Montparnasse is here to prove their unprovoked acts of violence towards the Downworld community.” He gestured for Montparnasse to step forward.

“As you all can plainly see, my hand was burnt off,” He said but not with his usual flippant attitude. It seemed he was actually trying his very best to help Enjolras, “This occured when I was captured by the Patron Minette to be made an example of. I can also attest to the existence of the organization because I was once a member, before I was turned.” He was going even further than Enjolras had expected, but that wasn’t too much of a surprise Montparnasse was old enough to have suffered centuries judgement and persecution from bigoted Shadowhunters.

“What you two are saying is that you would like to make a case against the Patron Minette,” Valjean asked to clarify. He was looking at Enjolras with pride in his gaze.

“Yes, Consul Valjean, that is exactly what we are saying.” 

The spindly man spoke up again, “But that doesn’t erase the fact that you could not keep Paris safe! Animatronics ravaged through the city! Our agreement from before still stands!”

Enjolras realized something very interesting in that moment, “That is an interesting statement considering that know one has said anything about Animatronic demons.” He met the man’s panicked gaze dead on.

“Guards please take Mister Alistair to the prison. It seems he is part of an organization that broke the accords.” Valjean said and the spindly man was dragged away. “Now it is clear that Alistair had rigged our agreement for you to fail. I guess that means it is void and you and the Downworlders may continue your lives if the Clave votes in favor of it. A show of hands please.”

This time too many hands to count were in the air. Enjolras could feel the energy pulsing through him. He had won.

As soon as the Clave dispersed Enjolras and Montparnasse left the building and crushed the glass jar to summon Courfeyrac, who they knew would take a few minutes to actually meet them. 

Valjean made his way to the steps where he sat with them, “Enjolras I’m so proud of you. You took down an entire unjust agency.”

“Thanks, Valjean, but I couldn’t have done any of this without my friends,” he thought about how much he loved all of them, “Thank you for letting me go the the Paris Institute. It has made all the difference in my life.”

“Of course,” Valjean shifted his attention to Montparnasse, “You did well today. I hope that with your cooperation Shadowhunters and Vampires will learn to get along.” Montparnasse didn’t say anything, he instead nodded respectfully.

“Hey guys!” Courfeyrac appeared in front of them with bags in his hands, “From the looks on your faces it went well! Not that I thought it wouldn’t. Anyways I bought snacks and drinks! Let’s go back to my place and PARTY!”

The three portaled back the flat where his friends were all waiting, desperate to hear how it went. Enjolras was going to answer with a detailed summary of what happened, but Courfeyrac beat him to it, “WE DID IT BITCHES!” He shouted and everyone’s face perked up.

Grantaire made his way over to Enjolras and grabbed his hands, “Congratulations, Apollo. You actually made a change in the world. I never doubted that you could do it.” He said before kissing him.

“Don’t forget that you were a part of this too, Grantaire,” Enjolras’s reminded his boyfriend, “I can’t wait to see what the future holds for all of us.”

Grantaire smirked, “Judging from the amount booze Courfeyrac brought tons of bad decisions and morning headaches.”

Enjolra laughed and kissed him again. This was the life he had been waiting to live.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is your last chance to comment, so maybe just leave a little something down there...
> 
> I don't know how this happened, but here we are.
> 
> ALSO, I wrote two new fics when I was supposed to be writing this one/studying because I have no self control. Check those out if you want.  
> :)


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